Tru stories from the 222nd Floor

Fun and Flirty

2012-01-31T08:37:00.008-06:00

As always, I am grateful for our amazing and extremely talented Relay Team. Not to mention, our loyal and helpful crowd. Our event raised just over $3000, to benefit the Cancer Centers of America. This week, I am again reminded of the crucial role, the centers play in my life.
Our team members are always happily willing and able to accept donations.
Thanks again... And see you next year!

Music in Movies:

2012-01-30T11:40:00.004-06:00

While last year's 'dance number' continues to be dear to my heart.... I knew I would never get everyone to agree to another sweet and fully synchronized production. I dreamed up the idea of each team member choosing a musical scene from a movie and reinterpreting that scene to the best of their ability (or desired level). This was the result:

I really wish we had filmed the 'back stage' scene... because while everyone was a willing volunteer... the moments directly leading up to the number were filled with: Last second nervous peeing, hatred spewed in my direction for 'Making people do these stupid things', several declarations about tasting nervous puke in their mouths, shouts that they had completely forgotten every step of their dance and fears that their legs were unable to move. And let's not mention the Risky Business costume change... Ever. Please.
End Result: I totally and completely,
Love these people.
Hating on Cancer never looked so good.

The Posed and The Pretty

2012-01-29T21:44:00.005-06:00

Masquerade Ball Recap Part One:

Tomorrow: The Fun and The Flirty

Planning, Planning, Planning..

2012-01-27T08:50:00.005-06:00

Tomorrow is our Hollywood Masquerade Ball.
And things are frantic!!!

Last minute details are playing out.
Decorating and practicing our uhhh.. 'skit'.

Tickets are selling and selling...
It's really happening!

To those who have attended past dances:
We sincerely appreciate your attendance and donations to our Relay for Life Team. Your continued support benefits a very worthy cause, which is extremely close to my heart.

To those attending our Dance this year:
May you laugh, drink, dance and be seriously merry... may we not disappoint in showing you an amazing night! Oh... and remember to 'clap' for Warhol.

PS- Tickets are also for sale, at the door.
Really... Please Come to our Dance!

Jumbo Joe

2012-01-24T14:09:00.020-06:00

It officially happened, I've have been an Aunt long enough to become emotional about a nephew's birthday. I can remember you as an itty bitty boy. The cutest ring bearer eva for Commish and Jackie's wedding. Tiny round face, with little H. Potter glasses, so darned cute they were practical a prop purchased for the wedding day.
And then...
you were this bigger boy. Sweet, quiet, sorta silly. Lovin your momma and super All The Time smiley. With your crazy early, self-imposed bedtimes and your complete ban of all clothing items not labeled Redbird Rowdies?? Worn like a second skin.
The Kid used to look up at you, like this:

(actually, he still does...)

And then BLINK!!
You turned into a teenager. High school royalty. My children and I followed you around like my van was your personal Fan Bus. Track meets, parades, football games, Homecoming dances (ummmm... again, sorry about that) basketball games...etc.

And now: You are 16. Yuck. Dislike Button.
Listen, if your mother wants to let you become an adult, man your own vehicle, totally grow up... that is her business. But I'm not gonna be happy about it. Cute little round boy faces turning into chiseled handsome man faces...? Not gonna hear this Aunt say anything nice about that! No sir.
I'm not gonna tell you that you're shaping into a pretty cool guy. The type of guy that can weave and dodge life's curve balls with a sly crooked smile, surprisingly sturdy spine and carefree ease.
I'm totally not gonna mention, you have maintained your sweet friendly innocence, as you venture further up and out on the open road.
Nor will I write about the huggable loving momma's boy, who continues to Heart his mother, while nurturing a keen protective instinct.
I certainly would never whisper to Flag Girl: You've done a fine job, of raising that little ring bearer into a kind and polite mini-man. Nope, I would never.
Just remember, you are never too big, for me to save you from a blizzard. My bathroom and chip cabinet... are always yours. (Unless The Kid turns into a teenager.. but I'm stronger and meaner than Flag Girl, I'm never gonna let that happen.)

Happy 16th!
We sure like you, in this house.
You're like the son, I've always wanted. Cool, athletic, kind, cute, sweet... and I never have to yell or make you clean your room!

Sunday Funday

2012-01-22T20:34:00.014-06:00

The most amusing thing on the Internet right now, is the series of pics posted to The Twins Mamas facebook page. I have copied only a handful of pictures from her series and it was the highlite of my Sunday.
Apparently, the twins parents have recently purchased new 'big boy beds' to encourage the boys to sleep separately. Now... each nap time/bedtime has become a game of Where Will End Up Next?
And... I'm totally diggin it.
First, a pic of the bedroom (post twin tornado):

Followed by an Abbreviated Series:

Why is that basket on him??!!

Lovin every minute.
No fair..! I want cute and amusing twins!
Coach never gives me anything fun.

PS- No one tell The Twins Mama, she could probably start her own blog with these pictures. Stealing her material, is helping keep this blog afloat!!

And closing out the week...

2012-01-20T16:51:00.007-06:00

Previously, the best text message I had received, was authored by Munchkin. Her crown has been passed. (without her written consent, of course) Recently, The Commissioner and I were texting back and forth about signing up for the Warrior Dash again. I actually saved the texts. This is a snippet of that convo:

Me: How many races are you signing up for?

Commish: 3

Me: I figured more before your big crazy race (the Extreme Death Defying Electro-Iron-Man March or named something equally as stupid) Coach is confused we are wasting good money to do this again.

Commish: He's dumb. I'm gonna look like a marine before the end of the summer. Try not to fall in love.

Me: That is now the best text I have ever read.

Commish: I was thinking that when I typed it.

Happy Birthday Commish!
I hope this year brings you Marine-like skills, Michele Obama's arms and Jillian Michaels' stomach. If not... keep your funny. It suits you.

Here Comes My Girl

2012-01-19T04:34:00.004-06:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TRU STORIES!!!

I really tried to think of a clever or interesting way to write this birthday post. Last year, I obviously stole Tru Stories ideas, trying to copy her style of writing because I definitely do not have my own style. I was thinking about using only Beatles lyrics to describe her. I also thought about using lyrics of a song that always makes me think about her. While lyrics can be clever, which Tru Stories does very well, I couldn't describe her like that. This year I am going to let you know about the girl, I know in my own words.

When I first met Tru Stories, I wouldn't say I was headed in the right direction. Not saying I was headed in the wrong one, it was more like an angle instead of a straight line. Some might say that I was here to save her but that is the total opposite, Tru Stories and The Kid swooped in and swept me off my feet.

Some of the reasons why Tru Stories is my one.

-She has great taste in music. Yes, obviously Madonna and The Beatles but her range is almost endless. She can go from Snoop, Eminem, East Coast, West Coast, new music, classic rock. I did say 'almost' but country music is sort of a long stretch (sorry country fans).

-She knows sports. I realize she grew up in a sport background family, but she really knows what she is talking about. Sometimes we talk back and forth about sport topics for a while, afterwards I think, how lucky was I to find her, I can not believe she is not totally bored with this.

-She is a beer drinker. Nothing against girls that don't drink beer, it is just easier for me. It seems simple to me, I like simple. I also like the way she drinks her beer. I get it, it sounds weird but there is something about it that is hard to explain.

-She is a great writer. When I read her blogs, it is almost like I am there in the story. Wait a minute, a lot of the time I am. She makes it seem so easy and effortless to do, I am on my tenth hour right now.

-She loves our kids. I also love our children with everything I have but she finds things to love about them I would never think of. Different expressions on their faces or how they pronounce a word, things I might not notice without her. And not because I was also not pronouncing the word correctly.

Fine, maybe just one song to take up some space.

You know, sometimes, I don't know why,
But this old town just seems so hopeless
I ain't really sure,
but it seems I remember the good times
Were just a little bit more in focus

But when she puts her arms around me,
I can, somehow, rise above it
Yeah man,
when I got that girl standing right by my side,
You know,
I can tell the whole wide world, and shout it,

Hey, here comes my girl,
here comes my girl,
Yeah, she looks so right,
she's all I need tonight

Just for the record, it's still stupid and always will be.

HOLLA, Coach

Who is excited for Tomorrow??!

2012-01-18T11:24:00.008-06:00

Tomorrow, Coach will repeat his Guest Blogging Performance, for my Birthday. Let me remind the blog community:

* Coach has afforded himself a lifestyle, which requires him to write an email once each month. That email is rarely more than 6 words long. Those 6 words, are typically not capitalized or correctly punctuated.

* He does not have a Facebook page, an Ipod or Iphone, he is oblivious to where the photos are stored on our computer and it took 13 months for him to Comment on my blog.

* In our Self-written Wedding Vows,
His Opening Line:
"Tru Stories, I love you so much... It's Stupid."
(That is unaltered.)

* If I sent Coach a Text Message which read:
Can you run to the store, Tink is demanding more chocolate milk! I think Coco just ate dog hair. I am about to give both girls a bath. BTW- The Kid got an awesome report card!

His reply would read: K
or maybe if he has extra free time: Holla

* Typing and letter forming skills aside...
Coach is deeply emotional To.The.Extreme.
For example,
If I were to ask him to "Tell me Something Nice".

His Reply may be:
"Ummmm... Let me think.....
ummm... ok... just give me a second,
I'm thinking!!!! Ok...wait...
Uhhh... Dinner was good tonight. I like potatoes.
And.... you have hair? That's brown?"
It's like living with a Hallmark Card.

* Last, his actual Comment on his sister's birthday blog, just yesterday?? "Happy Bithday."

* But he is fairly creative and he has MAD throw-down comeback skillz. On Monday evening...

Tink: But I don wanna share wif my sista!

Coach: You HAVE too. You need to be nice to her.

Tink: I can't. She is jus little! I won't share cuz I am bigger than her!!

Coach: You have too, because I am bigger than you!

Tink (sigh and then total attitude): Well... (sassy Tink face) the whole Earthf is bigger than all of us...!!

Coach (immediately taken out of the game, because he had to run to the other room to giggle.)

I ask again... who's excited for tomorrow?!

Three Plus Nine = Twelve.

2012-01-17T13:06:00.010-06:00

Ok... we get it, Flag Girl is pretty.
Dang, there's like break-off blogs across the nation dedicated to Flag Girl. If I posted about her weekly, I'd probably have followers in the hundreds. Puke. Enough already, it's not like she's a Homecoming Queen!
I'm sooo over her cuteness.

Honestly, I actually sorta dig her edge.
The secret edge, reserved for friends. (Yes, sure... she is cute even when edgy) but the sarcasm, the wit, the occasional sassy mood?? Now that's the real Tru Story. During the last 12 months in the life of this Girl? She chiseled herself an edge, alright.
"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na, na"

* She proved herself to be a Warrior. Muddy, mean, competitive and determined. Scratching her way over and through big dumb obstacles, pushing down barriers, crawling and digging herself out of the mud and towards the finish line. Leaving many intent on beating her will, far behind. Oh... and she competed in The Warrior Race in June, too. Wink.

"I gotta brand new attitude
and I'm gonna wear it tonight"

* Flag Girl opened herself to new adventures. Conquering fears, boarding planes and strolling down the romantic and historic streets of New Orleans. A city rebuilt and stronger than ever after a storm nearly destroyed their beauty. She smiled, laughed and danced... "I got my rock moves and I don't..."

* She totally Crashed a Wedding. Just waltzed right in, sashayed up to their photo booth and flirted her way through the most adorable pictures Eva. Confident, a real badmothawatchyomouf! She ain't scared.
"And guess what, I'm havin' more fun"

In the last 12 months, she has blossomed in the light of love, rallied within a giant cloud of family love, furnished a home with a beautiful eye for color and compassion. She tried new foods, attempted new sports, met new friends.
Most importantly...
Flag Girl has mothered her children with a fierce loyalty, gentle touch of the hand to the arm, unwavering understanding and devotion (which is nothing new) in addition, she has taught her boys that life and love are a challenge worth fighting for. What's the only thing better than a Homecoming Queen? A genuine Role-Model, with the strength and grace to inspire. And that: makes Flag Girl tru-ly beautiful.

Happy Birthday, Friend.
I wish you 12 more months.. 12 more years... plus many more... of inspired Joy and continued new beginnings. You have earned all of life's rewards.

"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na"

Aging Conditions may be Slippery.

2012-01-16T14:39:00.015-06:00

This past weekend, I suffered a minor accident. My new van is not as snow friendly as one would hope. While driving VERY (seriously) slowly, I began to break as I approached a Stop. My wheels slid me directly into the back black iron bar across the bumper of a large semi. Almost immediately, the semi pulled out onto the road, totally oblivious to the accident.
The plastic-ish front of my van, easily shredded a perfect indention of the bar. No need to worry. We were not shaken in the least. I'm happy to report, no child repeated the swear word I muttered.
Though, I'm sure Coco has filed that nugget away for later use. Probably during Mass.

I was busy with blizzard like festivities, extra kids home from school... and it took a couple days to call in my claim. Now... the accident, the swear word, the damage to the van?? The worst part? Nope.
The worst, stomach dropping part of this story, took place during the 22 minute claim phone call.

I dial..
A very cheery, young sounding (probably pretty) girl answered my call. I patiently allowed her to do her bit (as I unfortunately suffer PTSD from two years lost in the cave of an insurance claim center.) She asked her typical questions, I appeared like a moron.
Her: Name of street the accident occurred?

Me: Ummmm, I don't know. The street by Fox?? Unless a Christmas Card friendly relative lives on a particular street, I have not actually learned road names and opt for descriptions like: You know, 1 block down from The Dairy Queen... or 2 houses down from where so-an-so's grandma lived...
Still NOT the worst part...

When describing the road conditions, I realized this young girl must have spent her life living in Arizona.
Her: Ohhh.. there was a big snow storm?? 6-8 inches?? Wow! Your van just slid right into a semi?? Wow, again!!
Me: Yep. It snowed across like 9 states. Yep, snow is crazy. Yep, tires slide on snow. I know, it sounds nuts.
16 minutes into phone call, not the worst part.

No, the worst part occurred shortly after.
Her: Ok... can I get your drivers license number. Ok.. date issued... ok... and can I get your birth date?

Me: One. Nineteen. Seventy-Seven

Her: Ohh!! You're gonna have a birthday this week!!

Me: Yep.

Her: Ohhh!! Wow! And it's a BIG one!

Me (take a cleansing breath moment, pretending not to envision my dry-scaly- winter living in the crazy-snow-land old lady arm into the phone to yank out her young, probably wearing a tank-top cheerful throat.):Yep. Sure is.

For a rude young lady, she sure can calculate numbers and dates quickly.

Anyway... Long story short,
only 4 more days until Coach repeats his famous guest blogger performance. The very mention of my birthday may cause young girls to shudder over the phone but Tru Stories followers world-wide... have patiently waited all year for Thursday.
Silver Bleepin Lining.

Forgive me Father, for I have...

2012-01-12T22:06:00.009-06:00

Yesterday, I dropped The Kid and Lil Ditta at CCD. Coco lost her cool, as she is completely convinced she is 6 years old.

Coco (yelling, demanding, glaring at me, fist clenched... all while dressed in one of Tink's nightgowns, sweatpants and rain boots):
I wanna go to CeeCeeDee! Me go to CeeCeeDee like mine broda! I'ne big too! I wanna go to CeeCeeDeeeee! I rweally wanna go to CeeCeeDeee!

From the other side of the van.
Calmly gazing out of the window.
Elbow on armrest, chin on hand.
Completely monotoned, lacking any emotion.
Tink responds: Not. Me.

I actually giggled, to spite myself.
First: Kindergarten, next year should be interesting.
Second: Ok. I'll admit it...
Maybe Tink spends too much time with her mother.

Though let's get real, I gotta feeling Coco is gonna need the religion more than anyone. She'll grab a hold of that Catholic 'confess thy sins and you shall find forgiveness' with both hands....and run with it.
Quickly and probably with scissors.

Planning... Planning... Planning... and then more Planning...

2012-01-10T16:00:00.004-06:00

With less than 3 weeks remaining until our Annual Relay for Life theme dance... my blog (and really the rest of my life) is taking a FAR backseat to my planning. Literally hours have been lost deep in the Internet abyss... researching music, film clips, Hollywood starlets and Oscar mania.
If not for the near constant little girl screaming (not to mention hair pulling, scratching and biting) over a tiny sista stealing big sista clothes.. toys... Punkins old nightgown (Oh no Coco didn't!! Not the green polka dot nightgown!) Like I said, if not for the brawling, I may not even realize my children were home. Thankfully, The Kid occasionally texts me from the other room... sooo we're still tight.
Planning... Planning... Planning.
I'm close to 'planning' a trip to a Malibu-esque Party Planning Rehab... because giwrlfriend... I am obsessive. And. I still haven't gone dress shopping.
Gasp.

Dear Hollywood Masquerade Ball-
You Own Me.
I only hope, I can do you justice.

Baby, It's NOT cold outside...

2012-01-08T18:32:00.008-06:00

The past few days have been amazing!
We have happily walked around the yard, like it is April. (It is no secret, I detest winter.) I even got the opportunity to get outside and do a little yard work (Shock Alert: I removed the outdoor Christmas decorations BEFORE tulips have bloomed!!)
It may feel like Spring outdoors but Coco is not too eager to lose her Christmas spirit. She refused to remove her new second skin (Punkin's hand-me-down Black velvet Christmas gown).

Completing her outdoor ensemble with one of Tink's rainboots (paired with one of her own) and a total physical meltdown in regards to a quick brush of the hair. Real cute stuff, Coco. I can not believe, I never imagined a child could be more defiant and oddly dressed than Tink. I almost miss the outdoor pajamas.

One major difference,
Tink wore whatever she felt like, without a care or much notice to her parents disdain. But if you argue, encourage or comment on Coco's outfit selection... Like, with maybe too many pictures..

You're likely to tick a girl off.
That glare is scary advanced for a 2 yr old.

Stealing Material...

2012-01-05T08:50:00.006-06:00

Yes, the blog is moving into the New Year, a little slow. While most families are tired and stressed, starting January... our family is tired, stressed, planning an awesome relay dance AND kicking off the tail end of a great basketball season.
Plus, our kids are sorta boring right now.
Cute but boring.
Therefore, I made an executive decision to post a picture of a friend's children, without even her verbal consent. Simply because, this picture is amazingly cute AND hilarious. Twin boys... and how they fell asleep.

Even more ironic??
Over Christmas break, Quincy and his little sista (whom was extremely nervous by the possibility of the Christmas Elf moving amongst her in the night) stayed over. Early morning, Coach found Quincy sleeping just a bit crooked on the sectional. Being a good Blog Husband, Coach snapped a picture:

Conclusion:
Little boys are funny.
One day, their wives may find sleeping with them, a little less amusing. I mean... seriously Coach... PUT YOUR jerking KNEE DOWN!! And stop arguing with our sheets all night!

It's January...

2012-01-02T21:52:00.001-06:00

So you know what that means:

Our Annual Relay for Life Dance/Event.
Planning is officially in full swing!

The #1 Most Amazing Thing

2011-12-31T15:55:00.028-06:00

that happened to me in 2011..
(And probably will always be in my Top Ten Most Amazing Things to happen in my lifetime... truly.)
This, is how it all played out:

Posted January 7th, 2011

Ok, Oprah. Ser- Rious -Ly.
While browsing (stalking) your website I could not help but notice, you are taping 2 shows on my birthday. Your studio seats, maybe 150 people?
(Fact. I Googled your studio.) Which means close to 300 people will bask in your sunshiny gloriousness on my birthday. I only want Four tix.
(I typed 'Tix' like 4 is so insignificant it's not worthy of hitting the keyboard enough to type "Tickets".)
I Heart You. I more than Heart You.
I Triple Dog, Heart inside 3 more Hearts, You.
I am there for You. I WILL be there for You. These 5 words I swear to You. I will Bon Jovi for you. Whatever, it takes.
Hand to my little-boy-chest-swear, to the Universe (see... I'm using The Secret) to The Oprah Gods... getting these Tix could honestly be the best birthday present of my life.
Sincerely- The Author of Tru Stories
aka Coach's wife, a sorta alright stay-at-home-mother (remember, the hardest job on the planet... 'your words!'), kinda pathetic sickly person (YES. I DiD just play the disabled card! I am not ashamed.) .

Then... Posted January 9th

You are So Very Right, Oprah.
January was not the right month for us.
Historically, January shows are dedicated to
"Making a Better You"... "Weight Loss is Your Friend"..
February will be our month.
There are numerous, valid reasons for why my Birthday was not Berry Perfect.
A Epic Day After Tomorrow Blizzard has always swept our state the week of my birthday.
It would have been beyond devastating, if I had dressed in my new outfit, brushed my newly highlighted hair and placed my perfectly manicured nails into gloves.... only to realize the Highway had been declared unsafe for travel.
I have barely recovered from several weather-related childhood Birthday cancellations.
Obviously, Your wisdom would include a Farmer's Almanac-like knowledge of such things.

Then on March 29th I posted:

I submitted the following last minute request to the Oprah Show:
I've never been to the show. I Triple Dog Heart Oprah, I will leave my kids in a Road Runner dust cloud. I had an 'oprahiphany' while watching the Australian Adventure with my son. (we pretend it's the Reading Rainbow of his generation.) He apologized because I was not on the Ultimate Vacation and asked if I was going to cry. Insert 'Oprahany'. Australia, was not my Dream. My Celebrity Dreams would include:
A. Attending The Oprah Show.
B. Hangin with Julia Roberts, while I am on my A-Game Funny, making her laugh that giant awesome laugh, of hers.
The Ultimate Viewers had Their Moment. My Moment is in the Audience. Maybe I hug Oprah. (not like a stalker) Maybe this is her final show, with Julia. Maybe, I crack one of my best jokes. They decide I am Totally Awesome and invite me to Oprah's office for Post Show drinks with the OWN cameras. Maybe, me, Oppie and Jules exchange emails and become Besties spending weekends in New Mexico. I will do my best, not to randomly shout "Oprah, Be my mom, I love you!" Because, if I ran to Chicago, in a frenzy of excited screams and forgot one ticket for the woman who gave me life, she may never forgive me. Except, to ask how pretty Oprah looked in person. Please choose us as audience members. My fingers are crossed. I'm considering, launching an all-out campaign to realize my 'oprahany'. I'm not sure, my husband can stomach the small-town humiliation, when neighbors realize I am Coco for Oprah-Puffs! If my husband, has hand-written Oprah an eye-watering letter and her Cameras will Surprise! arrive at my door to whisk me away. I would appreciate a Head's Up, so I may shower and try to get my 3 children out of their jammies."

So then I posted on April 29th

Today, is the last day to submit a request for Oprah Winfrey Tickets. My very last chance to scratch good ol' #16 off of my Bucket List.
Dear Oprah: (and the lovely women on her team)
Maybe, I had not clearly expressed my sincere desire (near obsession) to be a (first-time) member of your studio audience. So, here goes....
(Men to which I am related: this may be the portion of the post, where you should stop reading, to retain just a wee-bit of respect for me.)
You were my after-school snack. My phone conversation with mom. My reason to beckon my husband, 'just to watch this one part'. I have hushed my children, to better hear your wisdom.
I've repeatedly began sentences "Oprah told me..." to which my Father-in-law has replied "She told YOU, or she said that on the television to millions of people??"
My reply, was a blank and confused stare.
I do not need Favorite Things, just a seat in your audience. I would even squeeze up, with another patron and go half-sies.
I have demeaned myself on this blog, declaring my adoration and I do not regret one word typed in angst. Maybe, I have held back. Not Today. Today... I have reached my Pathetically Desperate Hour.
What's it gonna take?
Should I sell you one of my children? Deal. Take your pick. They are equally as cute and troublesome.
Tattoo your name on my wrist? Cool. Right or left?
Lie and pretend my mother is dying of a rare disease and her last wish is to sit in your audience, therefore committing myself to an eternity burning in hell?? Done. I like warmer temps anyway.
Admit you are a better friend, than my husband?
Humiliate myself via the Internet?
Done, Done and Done.
I am begging, pleading and fingers-crossing... for just a couple, itsy-bitsy tickets. Name your price.
Pretty, pretty please. With cherries, whipped-cream and sprinkles on-top! Can I have tickets to your show? Just a couple. I promise to smile brightly and Never forget a glorious moment of it.
PS- I live nearby. Just a skip. A mini-jump, really. A drive so short, I could bike it, if you'd like. I am available to dash away from my lonely house-wife life, in obscenely short notice.

I still can NOT believe it....
But on May 3, 2011 I posted this:

Dear Mom-
If you are not too busy....
The Oprah Winfrey Show just called me.
They have awarded me TWO tickets for tomorrow's show, after reading my letter.
The Show is starring Julia Roberts and Tom Hanks.
We can leave tonight, to privately view their brand new movie and then we need to be at the Harpo Studio by 7:00am tomorrow morning, for the taping.
Soooo... Wanna go???

Obviously, she accepted the ticket.
Later: I posted this recap:

1:59pm Tuesday, May 3rd:
I'm in sweats, preparing to take a short nap. The phone rings. I'm annoyed. I grab the phone and check Caller ID. It reads 'Harpo Inc.' Immediately, my hands begin to shake and I answer the phone, as calmly as possible.

Me: Hello?

Harpo: Hi, this is 'someone' at The Oprah Winfrey Show. Is this 'insert my name'?

Me (calm): Umm, yeeessss.

Harpo: Hi. How are you this afternoon?

Me: I think, I am about to throw up.

Harpo: No! Don't throw up! I am calling because I read your link, how Julia Roberts would be your Dream Guest for Oprah. It just so happens, we are having Julia on our show tomorrow and would like to offer you a last minute ticket.
Are you available?

Me: Yes. Absolutely!

Harpo: Great! I have sent you an email with the details. We are also holding a private screening this evening, for her new movie with Tom Hanks called 'Larry Crowne' and Tom Hanks will be on the show as well, tomorrow. I know this is last minute but can you make it for the screening this evening?

Me: I can't breathe.

Harpo (laughing at what a ridiculous idiot I am):
You have to breathe!

Me: Yes. I can make that.

Harpo: And.... would you like to bring a guest?

Me: Yes. My mom.....

Then it began. We spoke for another 5 minutes, though I couldn't tell you what was said. When we hung up, I checked the detailed notes I had taken, while she was giving me the life-changing information....

(Seriously. That's all I wrote down.)

I check my email. Re-check my caller ID. Confirm, I had not been dreaming and quickly type up the previous blog entry. I dial mom at work. Tell her to check the blog because 'I had just posted the CUTEST pics of the girls" I wait, until she quietly said "Are you serious?" and at that moment:
I totally lost my $hit.

The next 17 hours, were a blur.
I call people. I walk in confused circles. I need a shower but can't find my bathroom. I think, Gramma stopped by. Flag girl was there. Someone took my kids, I really have no idea. I cry. I curse my closet (WHY didn't I shop, JUST IN CASE!) I yanked a suitcase and randomly throw mismatched clothes inside. I grab phone chargers, earrings, camera, my kids' ultrasound pics, maybe baseballs... I don't KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING!! My limbs feel disconnected from my body. I'm dizzy. Coach called. I cry again.

4:20pm: Grammy and I jump into the car.

We are compulsively talking. I screeched "This is UNBELIEVABLE" a minimum 374 times. I called the Mrs and left the following on her voicemail:
"Hi. I just wanted to let you know, this is what my voice sounds like as I am driving to the Oprah Show." We realized we had nowhere to sleep. I text Chili, he traveling-agents it, like a pro. Grammy almost runs a car off the highway. We get to Chicago. We are lost, as we look for the theatre (you know... for the PRIVATE screening, of a movie NOT yet released nationwide) Grammy may have driven the wrong way, down a MAJOR one way street.
Snotty people waiting in our movie line, are bored with the Regularness of attending Oprah. I am shaking and smiling like a stoned-lunatic. The Oprah Show provides free Soda and Popcorn. The movie is cute.
Oprah, Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts?.. "My Australia".
Honestly, one of the VERY best days of my life.
Dear Bucket List-
You are officially, one HUGE spot EMPTY!!

Four Days later, I finished by Posting:

The time, spent within the Studio, was beyond explanation. I tried to calmly absorb everything... mentally locking the moment in my mind, with video-like detail. Except... I was smiling and smiling and more smiling. I tried to behave calmly but imagined my appearance resembling a teenage girl.

Final Assessment, Scale of One to Ten:

* Going to the Oprah Show: A Ten (right out the gate)
* Being invited to the Private Night-Before Screening (which I have ALWAYS been envious of...): A Fourteen
* Having Julia Roberts as the Guest: A Twenty-Four
* ALSO having Tom Hanks: A Thirty-Two
* Having Julia gift her Favorite Things: A Thirty-Nine
* Having the taping, be one of the last six shows, ever taped in the Harpo Studio: A Forty-Three

Conclusion: Attending this show, with all of it's perks and fireworks, was easily a 43 out of 10. An even better experience, than I could have imagined.

"God can dream a bigger dream for you, then you could ever dream for yourself." -An Oprah Quote

Easily, the very best moment of my year.
Seriously! Did that REALLY happen??!!

The Best of 2011 #2-4

2011-12-31T13:47:00.010-06:00

2. Married Life:
Admittedly, 2011 presented us with challenges.
Poo in the crawlspace, the death of a family pet, a few days here and there when Coach totally annoyed me, busy schedules, crashing our vehicles together... What?!! Who did that?!!
Still... after review, we've had more Ups than Downs. Two great Cubs games with friends, hangin with celebs, wedding crashing, country road snake wrangling, becoming Warriors, True Blood Marathons, one sweet Mansion anniversary date.
AND our beautiful kids?? Too much goodness.
We are entering a New Year, extra pukey In-Like with each other (please don't let that be a jinx!!) and I am eager to see the smiles next year will bring us.

3. Na'orlens Baby.

Honestly, I will repeatedly write/exclaim
"I Love the Heck out of New Orleans!!"
Traveling to Louisiana for the second trip in two years?? Amazingly lucky! Traveling with a few of my favorite people??? Indescribably lucky.

Seriously guys, when are we going back?
Give me a date.... I'm ready.

4. Coach's Birthday Party:
Words are unnecessary. We have the best friends.

Soooo....
What is my Number One moment??

The Very Best of 2011 #5-10.

2011-12-30T08:57:00.009-06:00

This has been a pretty great year.
As I spent yesterday browsing the blog, I was left feeling full and amazed by how much I love my life. (Sure... I could use a new kitchen and a better pair of jeans) Still, I'm just plain Happy. (not the smiling, super friendly cheerleader-kinda 'Happy' ... more the totally content, Heart-Full kinda 'Happy')

Here are Ten of the MANY reasons Why:

5. My Tinkerbell.
This picture captures everything I love about my daughter. Her beautiful eyes, tiny perfect face, curls and mostly.. her touch of attitude. This year, Tink became a big-little girl. Running in her first race, attending school, losing TWO teeth! Talking and learning, loving her friends and cousins. It has been a gift, to love her for 5 whole years.

6. Having my Brother home for Christmas:

After a very difficult plight for my family, Uncle came home. Thus far, he seems much better. And more prepared for the future. Christmas Eve, we shared a very wonderful evening with him.... pink Barbies and all!! I am proud of him.

7. Summer with The Kid:
There is no child alive, who loves Summer more than The Kid. He loves being outside, playing in the dirt, swimming, spending Shelbyville weekend with his cousins. He eagerly anticipated our Summer Family Mondays and even managed a few impressive plays during an otherwise rough baseball season. The Kid, keeps us Summer young.

8. Me and The Warrior Dash:
Honestly, this race scared the heck out of me! But completing this race, gave me a pretty impressive confidence boost. Climbing up and over That One obstacle... felt amazing. Even though it took The General months to sorta forgive me, our story was easily one of my favorite memories of the year. And if he'll have me: I would love to hold his hand again, over a path of beaten down junk cars.

9. Coco and The Galway Girl's Show N Tell:
It's no secret our Coco is just a wee bit, uhhh... interesting, to say the least. She is full of sugar, spice and everything sometimes not so nice. But having her older cousin take her to Show N Tell, just to tell her class her baby cousin eats deodorant??? Priceless.

10. Our Relay Dance Performance:

Even though Coach TOTALLY threw my bouquet crazily in an obvious attempt to make himself look EVEN cooler... I love this video and could watch it a thousand times (and I nearly have). I love this family too much! I can not believe the crazy things they are willing to do. I appreciate their part in making my year, so amazing!

The Countdown continues, tomorrow.

Ending the year.

2011-12-29T13:27:00.005-06:00

Starting tomorrow, I am posting my Top Ten favorite moments for 2011. In preparation, I have spent the afternoon reviewing old Blog Posts, from the year.

And seriously, I gotta tell you:
Me and Coach are pretty funny.

The Barbie Christmas

2011-12-27T13:11:00.007-06:00

I took a mini-Christmas vacation. I did not blog, we attended less functions, purchased fewer presents, baked more cookies, opened smaller stockings, stayed home more... I even READ A BOOK! What?! With only 1 week left in 2011: I finally read The Help.

The weekend was full of family, snuggles, cookies and cute little smiles. My favorite part??

Tink repeatedly exclaiming Christmas morning:
"It happened! I rweally was on the Nice List! See... I'n not Naughty! Santa rweally did bring me and Coco presents! Can you beweive it?!"

I hope everyone had a lovely holiday.
I know we did...

She's funny.

2011-12-22T08:43:00.006-06:00

My mom, sent me an email, this morning.
This is that email, in it's entirety:

Greatest joke on Bob & Tom this morning. A guy was talking about his family being from TN and how they are practically inbred. He said "I have a cousin who married her ex step-father.... I had a cousin that married someone, who was not her blood cousin but a cousin by marriage." Then he said
"We are not inbreds but we are buzzing the tower."

I don't get it...
Why would she send that to me??

Sugar High, Much??

2011-12-21T14:56:00.012-06:00

Following my very popular Chocolate Covered Oreo recipe post (I'm not on Paininmytrist but if I were, I'm sure that particular post circulated with all of the best mom craft ideas)... riding the sugar wave, I decided to really bake cookies (with the help of my girls) and then invite extra girlies over to decorate.
I was unprepared for the beating to my mom ego. (get it.. 'beating'... like beating the cookie batter??)
Coco was the first to cross lines. Taking a giant spoonful of the powdered ingredients and quickly shoving into her mouth. Then coughing and gagging out floured dust, as she exclaimed "Dem cookies don't taste berry good Mommy. Dos not good cookies!"
No duh, Coco... no duh.

Next:
I pulled out the electric mixer. Tink appeared puzzled "What is dat thing? I'b neber seen dat before?!" She sorta glanced towards the fridge, as if wondering where her mother's typical Christmas cookie preparation of break-off Tollhouse were hiding.

Last:
I gingerly (get it?? Like the ingredient??) located my grandmother's rolling pin. Excited to use this moment as an emotional history lesson for my daughters.
Me: This was my grandma's rolling pin. She used this to make thousands of cookies, in this very kitchen. Right on this same (unfortunately yellow) counter. With her daughters and then me.. and now we are making cookies, just like her.

Tink sorta deep sighed/eye rolled with boredom: Yeah... but now your grandmother is dead. She died. Jus like her husband. Now she is dead. And she doesn't make cookies cuz she's dead now. Jus like Grammy's mom and jus like my cat Rigby... right?

Me: ummmmm... yes, she died. But maybe she makes cookies in Heaven?!

Tink (Direct stare. Deep sigh.): Mom... she's jus dead. Jus like her husband.

So with that, I just finished making cookies. Quietly hoping, I wasn't such a Giant B when my mom and grandma tried to create happy Christmas cookie memories, with me as a child.

Later:
Decorating and cookie eating, went exceptionally well.

A close look at Joy's marsh mellow cookie snowman. Lil bit of sugar on top of sugar? Don't mind if I do...

So...This was a Semi-sweet holiday experience.
(get it? 'semi-sweet' chocolate chips??)

While visions of sugar plums.

2011-12-20T09:02:00.006-06:00

Sure...ok.
I understand, she is pretty gross.
Yes, she licks tables, toys, people...
sometimes church pews or even the dog.
Maybe, I have caught her eating rocks
and/or dirt.

I suppose, you could say she HATES washing her face
or brushing her teeth.
Pony tails?? Ferget 'bout it.

All of that in consideration:

I still can NOT help but want to chew on her mouth.
Seriously. How pretty is she??
Especially, fast asleep.

Ring a Ling....

2011-12-16T12:07:00.005-06:00

"City sidewalks busy sidewalks.
Dressed in holiday style
In the air, There's a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing
People passing
Meeting smile after smile
And on ev'ry street corner you'll hear
Silver bells.... silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring a ling.... hear them sing
Soon it will be Christmas day"

In this magical, spiritual, beautiful time of year:
filled with joy, sprinkles and glitter,
Tru Stories has officially broke the Comment ceiling.
All in the spirit of Jacking the heck out of
some probably well deserving idiots.
37 Comments... And counting?

Merry Christmas One and all...

Man, do I know some classy people.
And. I. Love. It.

Dinner Conversation.

2011-12-15T08:37:00.009-06:00

Set scene:
Calmly eating at the dinner table.
Coco is sorta gross (typical).
The Kid is blabbing, blabbing (typical).
I'm exhausted.
Tink is ignoring The Kid and adding her insight.

Suddenly Coach interrupts,
with his happy, smiley Coach voice:
Hey... is it weird that we are a family?

Me (eyeroll)

The Kid: What do you mean?

Coach: Is it weird to anyone that we are just a family? That I'm a Dad. I have a real job. That mom and I are married? That we have 3 kids.

Me: (deep sigh plus eyeroll)

The Kid (nervously): What are you talking about?

Coach: Is it just me then...? It's not weird to anyone else that we are grown with a family? That we are just eating dinner, like a family? No...? Just weird for me?

The Kid: What? Mom, why is he saying that?

Me: Because your Dad thinks he is young and sometimes it STILL surprises him that he is an adult.

Coach: I am still young. Isn't it just weird that we have 3 kids? Just sitting here eating dinner?

Coco (licks ranch dressing off her fingers)

Tink (totally ignores her father)

The Kid: Ohhhh... because Dad still acts 19??

Me: Maybe these are 30th birthday aftershocks.

Coach: Seriously... (he looks around)
It's not weird, we are married with 3 kids??

Tis The Season....

2011-12-13T08:33:00.013-06:00

for Joy and Cheer. For sweet tasting cookies and smile inducing Christmas cards. For time spent with friends and remembering to honor the gift of family, home and love... which God has blessed to you.

Tis ALSO the season, for stress. Empty checking accounts. Fitting your 'sweet cookie tasting' rear-end into holiday clothes. And just feeling annoyed.

Therefore, let's finish the year, with another round of:
"Who would you Jack??" TM- myself.

Here are the rules:

1. Pick a person, for example...
your 5th grade teacher or your sister.

2. Premise:
You march up to this person, pause and then Jack them square in the face. They will retain this information for approximately 9 seconds (long enough to react with an expression of recognition but not actually rise to hit you back) and then their mind goes blank, never to be the wiser. Said person, would be completely unaffected, not even a bruise. You, however, would have a victorious skip in your step and sly smile across your face.
All the while, Karma, God and/or your Grandmother, will look in the other direction.

3. Sooo... Who would you Jack?

Maybe your first reaction may be:
Tru Stories is a seriously terrible person!
Who would invent such an awful game!!?
After you get past all that.... Think on this for a minute or two. Let it soak in.
Is their someone who has offended you?
Made your child cry? Or rubbed you the wrong way?
Flirted with your husband?
Prances about, owning the world, as if they couldn't use a good smacking?
Stole your boyfriend in the 7th grade?
Has a voice, which grates your soul?

Now, make your list.
Safely in your mind, or share with a VERY close friend, not prone to blabber mouth syndrome.
Or post in my Comments!! Even more fun.

My List may possibly include:
1. The teacher's voice on Charlie Brown.
2. Several staff members from Bromenn.
3. Sons of Anarchy finale.
4. Lady Gaga and her clothes.
5. Occasionally my father. (no judgement!)
6. How old is The Kid's sassy mouth??
7. Flag Girl's lack of morning phone time.
8. Adults ignoring their nephew's plight.
9. Joy Behar
10. My total lack of WBCs.
11. Jerry Sandusky etc...etc....

Therefore... Who would YOU Jack?

Disclaimers:
1. I have NEVER punched someone. And do not plan on it in my lifetime. Please, do not stop reading my blog, out of moral protest.

2. You are not allowed anyone under the age of 17 on your list. Unless you are a parent of a teenager...then do what you need to do. No judgement.

Merry Christmas to Me!!

2011-12-12T08:56:00.008-06:00

Coach and Grammy, gifted me with an early Christmas present. A brand new laptop!! Officially pulling me out of the dark ages (sure, it's not an Iphone or an Ipad... but it's WAY more modern for my world.)

Now, I can blog more efficiently and easily than before. Thankfully, because how else would I be able to get my pertinent information to the world, like:

"Should I be embarrassed, I secretly Heart Selena Gomez's new song? I mean, it's not like I know 95% of the words... and I only sing it in the van with the girls... and occasionally totally by myself in the van, loudly and with teen spirit. That's nothing to be ashamed of... is it?? Scale of 1-10...."

Thanks Grammy and Coach!
For helping the world climb just a little deeper,
into my pathetically lame mind.

He is home....

2011-12-10T12:12:00.009-06:00

Thursday evening, my brother returned home. After seven weeks in hospitals and institutions. If you have followed our story, you understand the last few months have been extremely difficult. There were several gut-wrenching visits. Painful conversations with my children. Nights without sleep. Sobbing phone calls from my understandably heart-broken mother.
I have endured awkward silences from those I had once depended on for friendship and compassion. I have also been gratefully surprised by kind words and moments of genuine concern from others.
I received an email, including the following:

"....your blogs have generated numerous conversations between XXXX and I about mental health - about the state's lack of resources, tidbits that surprised or inspired us about your family's situation - it's really opened our eyes.
I didn't know your brother had a mental illness. At most, I thought he was a little different. So when your mother was telling me about his situation, even then I couldn't really understand it. She mentioned, he had been manic and that he would likely need to go back into the hospital and they'd use lots of drugs to mellow him out. I remember thinking 'oh, that will be a nice little quick-fix'. Just take a bunch of pills and back to normal... Of course it isn't as simple as that. Even though it hurt my heart to read, I'm glad you described the effects of the medicines. I've seen many people with mental illness and just offhandedly been like 'that guy was crazy.' And I've never once thought about how his mental health affects his family, his loved ones - his mother who gave him life and had so many hopes and dreams for him. Thanks for sharing for giving us something to think about."

The decision to post about my brother's disability, was an inner debate of great magnitude. I have inherited a personality combination from my parents, which includes my father's instinct to keep emotions private and guarded... mixed with my mother's coping mechanism to joke during a time of stress.
I write a blog, which many would eye-rollingly describe as 'putting my life out there...' My posts are typically a sarcastic and amusing fuzzy snapshot of our world. With the exception of the birthday posts, I rarely blog true emotion or the ugly reality of life.
By posting about my brother's schizophrenia, I have certainly blogged 'the ugly'. My fingers shook with each post and His Video dedication, ripped at my heart. After reading the above email, specific texts from my brother-in-law and numerous kind comments or notes sent to Facebook... I have probably never been more proud, of anything posted.
To hide my brother's struggle, would have been a grave disservice to him and every person who has suffered or will suffer from this illness. Quietly enduring the last months, would have shamed my family, specifically my little brother.
And so... What have we accomplished?
What has Joel gained?
What lesson, have we learned?

If I have helped, to make Joel's continuing battle, just a little more comfortable: then I have helped my parents, to give him a life. To give him a voice, when he is too scared and nervous, to use his own.
I hope my posts, have given the mentally ill, one tiny step forward. If I have changed the views of only my 44 Followers: Well then, 44 people will raise more tolerant and understanding children. 44 people, who will smile softly at 'someone different' rather than avoiding eye-contact. Maybe, there are 44 people, who will second guess themselves next time a group is making jokes about 'the guy who lives by the ballfield' or 'the lottery ticket lady'. Even better, 44 people who will feel enlightened to vote, campaign or fight for the rights of our nation's mentally ill... with the passion, many rally for the impoverished in other countries.

Last night, we shared a boring ol' Friday pizza dinner, at my parents. Joel appeared happy. He smiled. He hugged The Kid and joked with his nieces. My brother is still schizophrenic. His Tru Story, is still painfully unfair. We are still sad for him and worry about his future. But last night, he was home. He is safe.
And I am glad. I am proud of Joel. He continues to bravely fight a battle, we can not imagine. Joel's determination to 'put one foot forward' will serve as an inspiration, to my children. Even his sister, has learned to see him, through new eyes.

It really is so Exhausting,

2011-12-08T16:09:00.002-06:00

being a little Tinkerbell.

Photo not posed or doctored.
Her life is so tough, she honestly doesn't have the strength (or long enough legs) to completely climb up onto the couch. Poor girl.

Another KaRazy Tru Stories Game:

2011-12-06T16:11:00.010-06:00

With our current DVR list including: American Horror Story, Once Upon a Time, Grimm and SVU... it's safe to admit, my TV viewing is starting to creep me out. None more than The Walking Dead.

I am honestly waking with nightmares. Specifically, the kind which play out like 'my neighborhood is being over-run with the infected walking dead, what items do I save from my house, which children can I carry... and can I keep up with my SuPer Fast Husband.'
A few nights ago, my nightmare literally contained all of the above fears, plus a new one. The premise:
We have safely escaped from our neighborhood.
We have called various friends/family.
We have met at a secure location with a bus.
We are set to drive south, to a large estate on a hill, currently untouched by zombies. Unfortunately, only 50 people will fit on the bus. In a frantic moment, I have to decide who can board the bus.

So here's the thought provoking Debate:
Out of EVERYONE you know, which 50 people would you choose to ride out the Great Zombie Plague on a beautiful southern estate. Please keep in mind:
You really HAVE to take your children and the children of your adult friends. (it would be tacky not too...)
It wouldn't hurt for your choices to be useful:

* Sure, Munchkin hates physical exertion. She can be kinda negative and she may refuse to board the bus when you decline a ticket to her dog: but the girl really is a doctor! Seriously. And having someone who can help with medication, might not be a bad idea.
* Doc. She's a nurse. She's in.
* Warhol? Uh... he can paint us out of a corner?
* Sure, EVERYONE would pick Coach. He's quick. Full of energy. Positive and annoyingly helpful. Duh, obvious choice. Then, you have to take our children.
* Me?? Well, I can garden. And um... I can write a blog?? Ok. Maybe, I'm not an obvious first choice.

Game On:
World is taken over by zombies.
You can save 50 people. Who's in.....?

A Family Holiday Recipe

2011-12-04T19:12:00.007-06:00

Step 1:
Take Oreos. Covered in white chocolate.

Step 2:
Purchase them at Wal-Mart.

Step 3: Eat them.

Step 4:
Congratulate yourself for buying said package of holiday favorites, pre-made and sold seasonally... rather than wasting valuable TV time, actually warming white chocolate and drizzling on oreos.

Step 5:
Hate yourself. For purchasing said holiday favorite and eating some (majority) of your children's share.

*Posting recipes, makes me like one of those cutsie blogs with crafts, DYI aprons and super-mom advice on sponging decals on your child's back-pack! Please feel comfortable to print my recipe, for yourself.

A Birthday Challenge.

2011-12-02T13:37:00.018-06:00

Today The Mrs turns 34. She wrote a super lame post, about how pathetic her life is now. (seriously, just be glad she even still posts...) It read, like this:
"I'm old and boring.. (yada)... I'm celebrating with my amazing children!... (who cares)... Wouldn't have it any other way... (pukes).. I'm going to Home Depot. (super lame)." .... Honestly, almost verbatim.

We owe Tru Stories, to the constant supportive encouragement (annoying pushing nagging) from Mrs, who believed Tink stories needed to 'get out there'.
As a result, I feel Mrs deserves to face the ugly truth, on her 34th birthday.

1. She claims she is boring:
I've seen her on a pole.

2. She claims she is so quiet, she only enjoys Holiday crafting and strolling Hobby Lobby:
She is a Warrior. Who runs for fun. And plays games like an ultra-competitive witch, able to curse your future grandchildren, with a quick sharp glare.

3. She claims to love the company of her children:
One time. We were invited on a Boat Trip (Just once. Only once. Eh.. Sweetbreads??) On the Trip, I heard Mrs shout: "I hate my children and am absolutely flourishing in a week-end away from those brats!"
Nearly a direct quote, though it was difficult to hear with Coach and I, spaztically and illegally jumping off the top deck. (I still jus aint eva gonna figure out why we's wasn't invited back...)

4. She claims she's a perfectly polite mother:
She wore stripper heels, to a family wedding.

5. She claims she'll fall asleep early:
Coach and I literally eye-rolled over The Mrs head, because she wouldn't get the bleep out of our home at like 2:35am...

6. Last, Mrs claims her and General have become an old, boring married couple:
I defy anyone, to witness a more romantic renewal of vows, than theirs as Mr and Mrs Frankenstein.

Therefore, Happy Birthday to a lady with some amazingly shiny, skinny and tan legs.
(FYI- I hate those a lil bit.)
My only birthday wish for you:

* You may remember, Coach celebrated my Birthday, by guest blogging a birthday post. Still unbeaten in Comments. Officially sparking a world-wide campaign (it COULD BE world-wide Haters!!) for him to guest blog on each of my birthdays. (Only 6 weeks away... Coach is already, randomly breaking into cold sweats and increasingly more intense panic attacks).

Soooo I was thinking. Wouldn't it be too sweet,
if General Guest Blogged for Mrs?
I DARE you. Actually, I double dog DARE you.

Yep. I JUST went there. BAM!
(The 'Bam' was obviously the sound of my defiantly awesome dare, exploding like an atom bomb of coolness, in General's face.)

A Coco 'Ch'ristmas...

2011-11-30T20:28:00.005-06:00

Because I have become completely over the top,
I purchased a white artificial tree with pink lights, pink ornaments and pink beads, for 75% off, following Christmas last year. Perfect for two, spoiled girls.
This afternoon, the idea was to let the girls 'mostly' decorate their tree, so they would 'mostly' leave me to neurotically color coordinate my decorating.
I tried my best, to ignore the bulb grouping... but let's get real, I have already been in their room twice, to move them around.

I had purchased the most adorable, pink glitter 'Merry' and 'Christmas' to place near the top. The tree looked super, Pepto Bismol cute. Except later....

Upon further review...
The 'Christmas' appears to be missing something.
Though it was returned exactly to the previous spot.

After MUCH questioning, we are certain, Coco is the culprit. Unfortunately, we have not recovered the 'Ch'.
Seriously...
What the heck did she do with the 'Ch'???

This is What I'm doing Today:

2011-11-30T09:20:00.002-06:00

Tis the Season... and all that Jazz.

PS: When exactly, did I turn into the 47 yr old,
Crazy Christmas Tree Lady??
It's possible, I could scale back a touch.

Medieval Times.

2011-11-27T20:17:00.007-06:00

For The Kid's Birthday celebration, we gathered Quincy and the grandparents for our first evening at Medieval Times. Even with reservations, we were arrived to a VERY full lobby. Prompting the extremely kind Grandmothers to upgrade our tickets to the Front Row. Gifting us royal treatment for the show.

This picture, of the men in paper crowns, is maybe the best part of the night. How much, must these Grandpas love their grandchildren??? Typically... they are not exactly paper crowns kind of guys.

I was nervous about the 'no utensil' dining experience but the food was actually very good.

Gramma and her knight in shining armour.

We were cheering for the Red Knight. Whom Tink developed a teeny crush on. Both cute and scary.

Coco cheering for Red!

Grammy and Pop-pop sprang for The Kid to officially be knighted, as a present. Because what The Kid needed was to feel even more entitled than usual...

Overall, the evening was nice and entertaining.
The boys loved the show. My final assessment: Sorta like Build-a-Bear workshop... fun, cute, something neat to do with your kids but just a bit pricey and probably we won't need to go back any time soon.
Still, I would definitely recommend it to others.
Happy Birthday, Kid! We love you.

Thanksgiving 2011.

2011-11-24T07:49:00.001-06:00

As always, I am most Thankful for my beautiful and healthy Five Family. Very blessed, to have been given the opportunity, to hold their hands.

I am also grateful to own a home, to host our large and amazing family, on this holiday. We'll especially be thinking of and missing, one special guest, at our table. I hope he can feel our prayers and love.

Happy Thanksgiving Blog World.

Ending Credits:
Photographs by: Amber Brown Photography

Film Creation, Editing and Arrangement by: Me!!

One full decade ago:

2011-11-22T15:05:00.013-06:00

I became a mother, to a son.
The first words the Doctor spoke upon your arrival, "He's here! He is so long and skinny!!" You were, still are and always will be... so long and skinny! And... you were most definitely Here. My first child.
Hours later, we were alone. Sharing our first of many, snuggle mornings. I repeatedly whispered, "I love you. I'm so happy to meet you... I'm your mom." I am sure you did not require my introduction but I needed to hear the words, "I'm your mom."
This morning, I've officially been a mother for ten years. TEN YEARS?!! When did that happened? Wasn't I just holding you? Were we not just snuggled tight, pressed heart to heart? I swear, I was just touching your baby soft hair, to my cheek.

It is remarkable, how people think they understand 'love'. Believe they've experienced 'love'. They love their parents, friends, they have been coupled and even married. A person will throw around an "I love you" without abandon. Then, that person becomes a parent. And their heart, literally blooms.
It grows. It physically aches, from the immediate bloat of new Heart Departments... labeled: Protection, Complete Preservation, Devotion and Hug-ation. A new parent, creates a mental list, Thousands of Things 'they' will do better, than any parent before. Insuring their baby, will flourish without complication.
After ten years, I am already over whelmed with regrets and 'I shouldas'. He was the 'first' for all of us. I'm sure we tripped a few times. I coulda done more.
I shoulda hugged more. I shoulda given more vitamins.
I shoulda held my cool. I shoulda taken more pictures.
I shoulda just really watched him more. Just sat in the yard and soaked up every detail of his chubby cheeks and toddler waddle. Somebody, shoulda told me it would go by SO DARN FAST! Ten years?
Are you kidding me?!

I suppose, I've done something right because The Kid is literally Amazing. His brain is a labyrinth of information. Details, intertwined with facts, sprinkled with interesting quotations and anomalies. While there is certainly occasion the well of intelligence feels plenty deep enough, I... eyes-squeezed-shut pray, his mind will only continue to impress.

The Kid is fiercely loyal. A devoted and sensitive friend. He desires the acceptance of his peers, as well as his adult companions. Often, his intelligence mistakenly convinces others, he is more mature than children his age and yet... he is sweetly and naively innocent. Possibly because of an overly protective and hovering mother, though I suspect he is an inviting soul, desperately wanting to believe people are inherently good. An admirable trait, which unfortunately scares the heck out of me.

The Kid is a most frustrating closet athlete. The raw ability, lays nearly completely dormant. Preferring a good book, to a dribbling drill or an afternoon at the batting cages. Encouraging his father to frequently deep sigh, followed by an exasperated forehead rub.

The Kid is the quintessential Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, of big brothers. Igniting from me, a firestorm of "Get away from your little sisters!!" or a smile, as he reads their favorite books. He secretly (no secret, he says it all the time) prefers a little Coco. Though, I wonder if him and Tink will eventually have more in common.

Above all: The Kid is an affectionate and devoted grandchild. An excitable and easily impressed nephew. A grateful and smiley cousin. And The Very Best Son we Have (as long as you don't wake him too early, tell him to put away his clothes, ask him to pick up his room or generally forget he Runs The Show...)

To my son:
As always, on Thanksgiving I am most Thankful for your arrival. Thank-you, for changing my entire world. Your birthday, is the date which defines the first and second halves of my life. Your deep, thinking brown eyes are the mirror to myself. Ten years ago, you gifted me the most important role of my lifetime. I pray, I have given you, even a fraction of the knowledge, strength and meaning you have given to my growth as a person. You were my 'starter kid'.
My first ten little fingers and ten little toes.
I could never express my gratitude, that you chose to love me. You will forever be, my favorite dance partner. Words simply can not describe.
Happy Birthday 10th, son.
Despite my pleas, you continue to have birthdays... and you just may age too big for my lap, too heavy to dance sleepily within my arms and too tall to hide safely in my shadow... but you will never, become too old for me to hold you tightly inside my heart.

The Rules of Potty Training:

2011-11-21T08:30:00.005-06:00

While on the phone with my mother, I became frustrated, as I realized Coco had once again removed her own diaper.

Me: Ugh! Coco took off her diaper again. She really thinks she wants to be potty trained.

Grammy: Then train her! You are the only mother I know, who doesn't want to potty train her kids.

Me: I like to wait til they are totally ready. I hate cleaning accidents. It's better when they are really old enough to actually take themselves to the bathroom.

Grammy: Well Coco wants to be ready like her sista.

Me: She's not. The last thing I want to do, is take gross Coco, into a thousand public bathrooms.

Grammy: You're just gonna have to start training her. She's ready.

Me: She's sooo not... If you're not old enough, to figure out you can't LICK toilets, then you are definitely not old enough, to USE a toilet.

Grammy (hysterical laughter... because it's true.)

Tink is Thankful for:

2011-11-18T16:38:00.007-06:00

At Tink's preschool Thanksgiving dinner, our table marker was created by our daughter. Each child designed signs, listing what they were most Thankful for, in their life. Tink's read:

First: Yes, that is a picture of her Grammy, Pop-pop and her old dog Desmond (which you'll remember was banished for not playing well with others.)

Second: No. The mother, whom is with her nearly every hour of every day... was not listed.

Third: You'll note Grammy is obviously wearing a sheer shirt... as you are still able to see her belly button.

And Last: Yes... my dad has pony tails. Ugh!

I would almost hate this sign.
If Tink wasn't so adorable later:
When she lost her first tooth!!

Tink was incredibly excited the next morning, after a REAL LIFE fairy had been in her bedroom! Leaving pixie dust under her pillow and on the money!!

The Convo Between Husband and Wife later:

Me: Welp... that's it. Now she is all grown up. Teeth are just falling out of her mouth.

Coach: I know.

Me: Why??? She was JUST our tiny little baby, days ago. Too tiny to grow up and lose teeth!

Coach: I know.

Me: Next she'll be in high-school. Driving the car and having a boyfriend.

Coach: No. That's dumb.

Me: We're just gonna have to get another baby. Let's adopt one this weekend.

Coach: As soon as we get rid of the dog.

The Official Re-introduction:

2011-11-16T10:39:00.018-06:00

Gramma and Grandpa have 14 grandchildren.
For two years, I have used their birth order, as their blog nick-names. I thought this would be easy for
(at least the family!) to remember. It most definitely WAS NOT easy, for even their parents.
Sooo... today EVERYONE gets a nickname!!
Every name, originates from a portion of their actual given name. Therefore, if their parents do not like the new nicknames... well.... I guess, you should have considered future blog monikers when you filled out that birth certificate. Not my fault!
Side Note:
Nearly every name, has an Irish/Catholic background.
(FYI- My children will remain the same.)

Former Blog Name: One
New Blog Name: One or First
One's name will remain. If there was anyone, convinced that he is Number One.. it's this kid.

Former Blog Name: Two
New Blog Name: Decimus
"My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next." Coach's favorite movie line. Ever.

Former Blog Name: Three
New Blog Name: Joseph (Jumbo Joe) Stydahar
Born March 17, 1912. American football offensive tackle for the Chicago Bears from 1936-1946 and is a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Former Blog Name: Four
New Blog Name: GlenAllen Hill
May 11, 2000: Hill became the 1st and thus far only, Chicago Cub to hit a ball onto the roof of a five-story residential building across the street from the left field wall of Wrigley Field. Hill wore the #4 Jersey.

Former Blog Name: Five
New Blog Name: Princess Grace of Monaco.
Monaco, Moni or Mona for short. Her choice.

Former Blog Name: Six
New Blog Name: John Quincy Adams "Quincy"
Our 6th president and a lifelong Republican.
Revered for fighting the good fight!
Also, I have many happy childhood memories in Quincy and now, my children have many happy memories with Six aka Quincy.

Former Blog Name: The Kid
New Blog Name: The Kid
I nicknamed The Kid when he was maybe 2 mos old: and it's never gonna change.

Former Blog Name: Eight
New Blog Name: Bondie Beach "Bondie"
Bondie Beach is a beautiful white sand beach in Sydney, Australia. No one makes me think about suntanning... more than this girl.

Former Blog Name: Nine
New Blog Name: The Galway Girl.
Galway is a city located in Ireland.
Plus she really is some kinda Gal.

Former Blog Name: Tink
New Blog Name: Always my 'Tink'erbell

Former Blog Name: Eleven
New Blog Name: Owl
The exclusive Bryn Mawr women's college is a highly respected and serious institution. Educating accomplished women. Their mascot is an "Owl".
A seriously beautiful animal, with captivating eyes.

Former Blog Name: Twelve
New Blog Name: Joy
This 'middle' child, radiates pure Joy.

Former Blog Name: Coco
New Blog Name: Coco
She still envelopes warm coco happiness.
Plus she's sorta messy, like melting chocolate.

Former Blog Name: Fourteen
New Blog Name: Gipper
Warhol's fav president, Ronald Reagan.
I plan on referring to her as Baby Gipper.

At least until Number 15 is born...
keep me informed gang,
whenever it is time for me to post a new name.

And there you have it,
Fourteen nicknames, officially assigned.
Whew! Exhausting.

She's got no Shame.

2011-11-15T15:31:00.004-06:00

A few days ago, while at The Kid's Parent/Teacher conference a typical moment occurred. Yes... The Kid is smart. His grades are exceptional. He sometimes has a temper but is a wonderful and respectful student (yep... totally just like in our home.)

After the 'conference portion' we took a moment to browse around the classroom. They have a large goldfish tub section, in the corner. We walked over, to look inside the giant tub full of fish, turtles, crawdads...etc. We were chatting, The Kid was excited. Suddenly, in the corner of my eye, I spot an accident in progress. I lunged my body forward and slide my hand expertly in between the dirty fish tub's edge and Coco's slowly opening mouth.
"Coco! Don't put your mouth on that!!!"

I looked up towards the teacher. Who seemed slightly surprised and confused. I matter-of-factly explained: "Uhhhh.... she likes to lick stuff."

Coach simply nodded and shrugged in agreement.

Possibly, the teacher marked Coco in a book labeled:
"Future Siblings NOT to Request in my Class."

Workin 9 to 5...

2011-11-12T13:57:00.010-06:00

And on the third day of birthday posts,
my good lord gave to me...
One tough lil GG,
ummm, in a pear tree??
anyway, you get the tune I was humming...

Happy 95th Birthday to the official matriarch of this large and crazy family. Ninety-Five years, feels unimaginable and yet lil GG appears just as sprite as a young lady. She has maintained her adorable figure
(so teeny, like her great-grand daughter Tink).
Still GG is just as tough as she is cute. To be a wife, in this family, I have learned it helps to be schooled in the art of organization, scheduled patience and a silent and hidden Firm Hand, guiding your husband with a gentle smile. Lil GG has commanded her farm and her family (for nearly a full century!) with an opinionated style and calculated grace. She is our very own Queen Elizabeth I (with all of the beautiful gowns and strength... minus the angry decision not to marry!)
I have often heard lil GG exclaim "Congratulations on your pregnancy! Now, I just have to stay alive for Amanda's baby, Kathy's baby, your baby, their upcoming marriage...etc."
If she intends, to wait for every great-grandchild, born to this extremely fertile family: then we're keeping her for another 25 years. Which is fine with Coach, as he is convinced his Grandmother is invincible. I'll tell you this... I'm not sure he is incorrect!
Happy 95th Birthday lil GG.
You are an extraordinary woman.
Life has granted you many blessings, all of which you have dignified with humbled thanks and appreciation. You are one of many, amazing women, for my girls to model and respect. I am grateful to know you and to be a part of your amazing family.

Happy Happy Joy Joy!!

2011-11-12T13:33:00.005-06:00

An Ode to Joy:

Happy Birthday to a tiny enigma. You first appear quiet, content to play sweetly in the background, a pleaser... seemingly satisfied to delicately shadow your big sista. Then, if crossed, you will fight for your Barbie with the scream of a wounded hawk and the will of a tiger. You are both hilarious and soft-spoken. Silly and serious. A whisper of blond hair with deep brown eyes. Thus far: our only tru second-generation Brown Eyed Girl. (which exclusively reserves you the right to dance ridiculously with our group and tell the superior Tink to sit on her righteous bottom!)
You have a tough show to follow, with that big sis... still, I am confident you are able to carve your own unique and genuine path.
I eagerly await the ensuing drama of the growing friendship between you and Coco. You are both just a wee bit of a mess, which warns me you will definitely give your older sistas some high-school grief. If we were only granted a nickle, for every time Tink and Eleven, will roll their eyes at their younger bothers.
Shine on, gentle shadow.
You are certainly a Joy to our World.

Happy Third Birthday!
We love you.

Coach's Big Three-Oh

2011-11-10T15:41:00.012-06:00

In honor of Coach's thirtieth birthday, I have reluctantly resolved to do something so rarely seen... it's nearly an endangered trait, almost myth-like...
I'm actually gonna (gulp) be sweet to my husband.
(Brother-in-laws: you may wanna sign-off)

Dear Coach:

It's possible we are the happiest, most content and most comfortable we've been (don't screw it up). We have settled into a very busy, yet blessed place in our lives. We almost have a pretend sorta handle on parenting three children. We have spray-painted our house into a home-base, which reflects our interests and individual tastes. (except the kitchen... nobody is tasting THAT counter) We are content in our professions, extra smiley satisfied with our amazing group of friends and essentially most grateful for what has been gifted to our small family.
You are still super cute. Almost (dare I say) cutER than before. I can hardly resist your ridiculously confident grin (gosh knows there are many times, I try to stay angry and your stupid cuteness gets in the way)
Above all: You are my laugh. Without question, you honestly "crack me up". Your clever, quick and occasionally shocking humour, wakes my spirit and keeps me on my toes. You simply: Amuse Me.
To quote a sappy movie or an over-played pop song:
You make me wanna be a better person.
My world will never be the same and you're to blame.
You inspire me. Your enthusiastic love for life, continues to fuel my own dedication to this blog, my yoga and the small details which form my life.
I'm a pretty impressive mother: but you have proven, parenting is a team. We are partners in raising the best little people, I've met. (Partners in the sense, I really do 70% of the most difficult stuff...)

I suppose, I'm prepared to learn how to make-out with a thirty year old... it's seems sorta creepy but I'll give it a go. I guess, we are really in this for the long haul. I look forward to our lives unfolding.
Keep me laughing.
Keep us simple.
Keep making us better.
And I promise to do the same.
Happy Birthday, Husband.
Here's to 30 more years of life filled with couch snuggles, frozen pizza lunches, cooking-dinner hugs, glances over our children's cute little heads and of course... your epic car-ride rock-star solos.
'Sometimes it lasts in love.' Really. Sometimes it does.

Doc is right:
You are too cute... and I totally Heart you.
(at least until the next time, you tick me off...)

A dedication:

2011-11-09T22:34:00.006-06:00

Today, my father returned home and requested my mother locate and print lyrics to a song. He explained: Twice, in the last 2 months, he has driven Joel to the hospital. Both times, the same song played on the car radio. Both times, Joel turned the song up and asked Dad to listen to the words. Both times, Dad was distracted... stressed, upset, tired and (I'm sure) convinced Joel was confused or disoriented.
This morning, the same song played once again, while Dad was alone in his vehicle. He turned up the volume and listened, as Joel had asked him twice before.

The song,
was "Unwell" by Matchbox 20.

After hearing the lyrics, Dad realized Joel was trying to tell him something. As you can imagine, Dad is devastated to learn he did not 'hear' his child. After mom told me this story, I was very moved and asked to print the lyrics on my blog.

Except printing the lyrics, would not give this moment the significance it deserves. I spent this evening creating this video, as a dedication to my brother.

Joel-
We are all listening.
I am sorry, you had to ask twice.

The Next 90 Days....

2011-11-08T12:56:00.016-06:00

Last week, I felt a shift in my relationship with my brother. A jolt in the plates of my family, so slight the people around me may not have registered. Yet, significant enough to my energy, I could almost feel my soul shudder. Wednesday evening, I went with my mother to visit Joel. He called twice, asking for me. He took me to his room. He was extremely disoriented. Very distraught. Paranoid and physically unwell. When asked later about the visit, I could only verbalize:
"It was the worst thing, I have ever seen."
I'm sure to the precious few whom (gratefully) continue to ask, my response was vague and confusing. What was the worst thing I had ever seen? What did that even mean??

After giving myself a few days to absorb the past week, I understand my statement. The following evening after my visit, my brother 'voluntarily' signed paperwork to commit himself to 90 days in the State Mental Facility. Yes, this (fingers crossed) will be a positive step in Joel's struggle. Yet, the shift I spoke of was so quick... so minuscule... such a flash... others may not have noticed.

Joel is currently taking 17 pills a day, for schizophrenia. Pills to help him relax, to help him sleep, pills to help his mind desperately find clarity. For a body to digest this much medication, presents a long list of uncomfortable side-effects. His jaw is locking, his joints are stiff, his body is shaking uncontrollably.
We were visiting during dinner. I carefully watched him eat. He was primal as he consumed his meal, devoid of the common table manners installed in us as children. His hands gripped his food with such controlled deliberation. Obviously requiring his full concentration... simply to eat a meal. When he raised his coffee, his jitters caused him to spill on himself.
What was the worse thing, I had ever seen?
I saw my little brother's future.

Joel was once so handsome. A shock of blond hair. A bright trouble-making smile with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Joel was much more full of life, than I. He was interesting and magnetic. He was a brilliant shooting star, while I remained boringly calm, feet planted in the ground. He was four years younger than I and still, he could command attention. Joel grew taller, stronger and grabbed onto life with more unbridled enthusiasm, than I could imagine.
I understand, his unapologetic 'zest' was likely an early symptom. Fifteen years ago it was an envy-worthy character trait, which made him posed for greatness. Joel's intelligence, athletic abilities, fearlessness and popularity presented him with endless possibilities.

Wednesday night, Joel appeared hopeless. He looked much older. I sat close to him, he let me touch his hand. I noticed grey hair. His over-medicated body was wrapped in a blanket. My stomach felt ill, imagining this scene playing over again in 30 years. Just Joel and I. One day, we will be what remains of our family. I will likely become his care-giver. Just the two of us, with only my set of memories.

One saving grace over the last ten years, appeared to be the mostly happy and safe world Joel had created for himself. Joel designed a small environment, with a few close family members. He enjoyed mowing the lawn, watching sports on TV and visiting with his nephew and nieces. He seemed to freeze himself in time. He never appeared depressed. He never mentioned the ugly side of this disease, which eventually encourages it's victims to take their lives. We assumed, he was comfortable within his mania.

In the last month, Joel has been aggressive with my parents. He has crushed them verbally, claiming they were bad parents. He accusing them of abusing him and making him become like this. Obviously, his accusations have crushed my mother. She is heart-broken, Joel is unable to remember how amazingly happy we were, as a young family.

With me, Joel has been more direct. His thoughts continue to scramble but he has voiced painful observations, making it clear he is struggling under the weight of his fate. In the last few weeks, he has cried to me. His deep grown voice, has cracked repeatedly. He confided, he thinks I am embarrassed of him. That I prefer the company of Coach's siblings. He is upset, he does not have a wife, a home and children of his own.

Wednesday evening, as he argued incessantly with my mother, over a belt (he is unable to wear a belt with his jeans, in the institution) he became more agitated as he went back and forth with her. Finally, I interjected "Joel, they will not let patients have a belt, because they are afraid you will hurt yourself."
Without hesitation he responded "If I were going to hurt myself, I would have done it a long time ago."

The very idea, he understood harming himself was an option, was shocking to me. I had always hoped the world Joel created, protected him from such feelings. I honestly believe, my brother manifests memories of a poor childhood, as a mask. How could he live with the memories of how amazing he was? How could he wake-up each morning under the weight of the friends, possibilities and the future he has lost?

I imagine, the worst thing my brother has seen over the last few weeks of his extraordinary mental break, must be his own depressing reality. Honestly, how do schizophrenics find the strength or will, to forge ahead? Hopefully, a little bit of that unbridled life-grabbing enthusiasm remains in Joel's character. Enough to put himself back together.
While Joel, his team of doctors and my parents continue the daily fight of trying to find peace.... I have resolved to calmly maintain a sense of normalcy. Joel is an Uncle. A job he has flourished in. Yesterday, my children drew Uncle pictures. Tink made rainbows, Coco scribbled happy purples and reds and Joel's god-son drew (surprise) a ship.

(Uncle Joel and baby The Kid)

If we are a cornerstone of Joel's future. It's time for me to pick myself up and start walking down this road. Am I pleased, God has chosen this path for me?
Hellz no... but He has.
Please continue to send your prayers and positive wishes towards my family. I'm afraid we will need them, for quite some time.

Coach's Birthday Party

2011-11-07T14:04:00.006-06:00

For Coach's birthday adventure, I invited all of his favorite people, forced them to take a pole dancing class, tricked them into pulling multiple dares and even found time to feed them Jimmy Johns. The night was a huge success. The invitees are amazing sports and I am officially daring them, one last time:
I dare you to watch this video.
You... and maybe 300 other people.

(Keep the video small, for clarity.)

Thank-you, for proving to Coach,
that he absolutely knows the BEST people.
Maybe not the most sexy...
but definitely the most fun.

WARNING:
If you have a weak spot for Strip Clubs:
this video, will help cure that fetish.

Yo Shorty... its your Birfday...

2011-11-05T10:51:00.009-05:00

Tonight we are celebrating my husband's 30th birthday. I have planned a fun night of twists and turns, surprises and plenty of reason to laugh. While Coach is aware there is an adventure this evening, I have kept the details from him... as well as the invitees.

Side Note: Coach's family is a close bunch, whom totally heart talking on the phone with each other and totally heart telling each other funny things and seemingly totally heart having the complete inability to keep a secret. Still: I totally heart them.

Therefore, I have released a small set of Clues, over the last 3 weeks. The Clues are as listed:

Clue #1: You must wear athletic clothing! Pick the cutest outfit you could run, catch a ball, or sweat in... You will not be given an opportunity to change.

Clue #2: Coach is NOT fancy, he is NOT romantic, he shows little class, loves a dirty joke, prefers situations which do not require manners and is just a wee-bit competitive. This evening, will reflect those ideals.

Clue #3: You may hold a basketball.

Clue #4: I dare you.....

Clue #5: Coach never had a Bachelor Party.

I was forced to ask Coach to help with 3 tasks.
1. We need 2 basketballs.

He questioned indoor or outdoor basketballs. A legitimate question, as we own at least 26 basketballs.
I answered: Outdoor.
He responded: Interesting.

2. We need 3 coolers
3. We need 1 football

Yesterday, he asked what I had left to arrange:
I responded: I still need to find a sprinkler.

(That MAY have been sarcastic.)

Only a few more hours, until the night is revealed!

Invitees, Last Warning:
If you can't take the heat, you best get out da kitchen!

Masquerade

2011-11-03T16:16:00.004-05:00

While you are busy, perusing the Halloween clearance... picking up a few extra bags of candy (for your kids, of course!) or pieces of a costume for next year, maybe even a few new decorations...
Please remember:
To purchase a totally awesome mask,
for our upcoming Hollywood Masquerade Ball.

Brought to you by our Relay Team.
This coming January 28th.

Because: Yes Dave, we still really HATE cancer.

What? Halloween's for kids??

2011-11-01T09:09:00.007-05:00

"This is Halloween...."

Our carved pumpkins... including General's 'carving'.

Two Bumble Bees and Rocky.

Check out those Abs of steel.
We have him on a pretty strict work-out plan.

Stop. Pause. Look at that beauty.

What??! People are just handing me candy?!!

Kids: Daddy, who are you dressed as?
Coach: Drew Anderson.

When you run way too fast towards free candy and your little bumble bee legs can not keep up, sometimes you faceplant on the street. Ouch.

Tink loves her some wings. Three years running...

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y......

2011-10-30T20:52:00.019-05:00

This weekend, Dora and Diego (kissing cousins) set out on an adventure. Prepared to rescue absolutely nothing... except some solid adult time. The kind, where adults act like ridiculous children.

Arriving at our gracious hosts house, we were pumped for Halloween fun and Scavenger Hunt 2011, baby.

I whipped this hunt together, in maybe an hour or so... (try several weeks) threw a couple quick ideas together... (researched and provided a detailed theme centering around Spooky songs) ... basic locate a black cat, kind of stuff... (our possible arrest factor was at the highest level.) Clues Included:

'Zombie Jamboree'

'Breakin the Law... Breakin the Law.'

'In the Shadows' Locate a headstone with the number 13 printed on it. This one actually got just a bit spooky if you were not the person holding the flash light.

Children of the Corn. Taken in a corn field.

Flag Girl (Lydia) and Beetlejuice in our chariot.

There were MANY stops and MANY clues to photograph. But I'd rather showcase some costumes.

Warhol and Sweetbreads dressed very poorly
(or maybe very well) as the opposite gender.

DJ Bride. Preggo but still rockin some sweet tunes.

Coach with his favorite girl in photos.

Is this weird... but did Mrs and General look almost better as Cavemen? Seriously, she was beautiful (and curvy!) and he is oddly hot in leg-warmers.

Winehouse: Thanks for letting our hunt repeatedly crash your party. You coulda said "No. No. No."

We know I don't care for hugging on a normal basis: this made me extremely uncomfortable. You can almost see the shiver moving down my spine.

Oh wait... no, actually THAT made me extremely uncomfortable. Grandpa: you must be so proud of your eldest son. He is very pretty.

Finally:
Out of 4 teams, my team placed second. Upon further review, I declare WE are the actual winners. We first appeared to lose to The General's team by a mere 15 pts. 15 pts we would have earned with the best pumpkin smash (clearly ours was more dramatic.) Originally, the 15 pts were awarded to General's team. Except, I discovered later they actually smashed my child's pumpkin, from our porch.
The Clue clearly reads:

'Smashing Pumpkins':
Smash your RECENTLY PURCHASED pumpkin 10pts
The most dramatic smash, receives additional 15 pts.
Judging based on location, style and mess.

FIRST: You did NOT smash your recently purchased pumpkin. Therefore, that is NEGATIVE 10pts
SECOND: Judging based on location? -15 pts

Tink sadly declared this evening "Mom...I jus hafta use your husband's punkin for my jackolater because Ahkenna's daddy jus smashed my punkin."

Hear This: If people don't stop smashing my children's pumpkins (or smashing pumpkins on our vehicles)
The Hunt Master will retire from her post.
Plus, I'm nervous I can't possibly top this year.
Though Coach just told me: "Nobody actually got arrested last night, so you've got more in ya."

His comment, sorta felt like a dare.

4 Thank-yous Plus 1.

2011-10-28T10:09:00.006-05:00

Chili Davis these are your 4(1) Birthday Thank-yous.

1. Thanks for being a nice guy. Seriously. A great guy. A good man. As often quoted by me (for years!) "We really love Chili. We really like when Chili is around. We think Chili is great." You were always the better half.

2. Thank-you for including me in the surprise Saturday at the Bears game. It was easily one of the Top 20 days of my life. If I think about it... I can still hear the quiet, secret click of Doc's can, from the back seat. That was an amazingly great day.

3. After showing the above pic: Thank-you for always hugging Coach up in every picture. As if he will perpetually remain your Lil' Buddy... even though he is actually a grown-a$$ man, with three children.
But still... it's sorta cute.

4. Thank-you for taking your bleepin Iphone to New Orleans, which housed your Mapquest App... which you obnoxiously used, even though I was standing right there, with a New Orleans book opened to an actual map. Thank-you for helping to make my super cool tourist book, appear dorky and outdated.
Yeah... thanks for that.

Plus 1:
But mostly, thank-you from all of us...
for making This Girl smile:

Because, a Smiley Flag Girl is WAY sweeter than a
... ummm... Un-Smiley Flag Girl.
Happy 41st Birthday, Chili Davis.
You really are a great guy.

Happy Birthday Eleven!

2011-10-27T13:46:00.005-05:00

Oh, her eyes,
make the stars look like they're not shining
Her hair, falls perfectly without her trying
She's so beautiful, and I tell her every day

When I see your face,
there's not a thing that I would change
Cause you're amazing, just the way you are
And when you smile,
the whole world stops and stares for a while
Because girl you're amazing,
just the way you are
-Bruno Mars

Happy Birthday to my God-daughter
and Tink's Best Cousin Forever!

You have yet to meet a camera, unable to capture your beauty with mini model-like perfection. Your electric blue eyes... your perfect smile... steal away any photograph. I enjoy your hugs and barely notice your tiny, bony bottom, as you snuggle on my lap. I look forward to your magnetic energy during each play-date! We love you bunches.
Enjoy your day: Tink's bigger little cousin.
Thanks for dressing with so much style,
just to wave good-bye.
Who said, sequins can't be worn in the morning?

Just Wonderin' Halloween 2.0

2011-10-26T22:55:00.006-05:00

*Why would anyone grow up and decide they want to be the house handing out the crappy cheap candy? And yet, there are obviously people who do.

*Same idea for handing out toothbrushes, we don't tell your kids to get a haircut... but we'd like too.

*Why do I insist on semi-making my children's costumes every year? The imaginary bear hug and "Thanks, mom you are the greatest, I appreciate your love and attention to detail" never comes to fruition. After I die, they are going to feel super guilty about not continually telling me how Great I was. Especially, after reading the chapter in my journal, where I describe in detail how Great I am.

*Every year, Coach and I dance to the same music. We purchase several bags of candy. Then Halloween morning, I call in a desperate panic for him to buy more. Because our supply appears to have been misplaced. Why does he continue to participate? Because I am a real-life witch... that's why.

*When did Halloween turn into the slutty holiday? Why are the women's costumes too short, too tight and too lacking in clothing? Has the nation forgotten October nights are freezing and the general idea is to consume obscene amounts of candy?? I'd prefer not to be photographed in a belly-less Navy Seal costume, chowing down my 4th Buttercup... who am I kidding... I mean my 7th buttercup. Maybe my 8th.
But I totally skipped lunch.
Facebook doesn't need that tagged photo.

*What child would Trick and not Treat? I say:
'If given the choice... always choose Treat. Eventually, life will play plenty of cruel and rotten Tricks on you'.
Put that on a friggin Hallmark card.

Question: How can you Tell if you are the Third Baby???

2011-10-24T19:01:00.002-05:00

Answer:

A.) If you are wearing hand-me-down Christmas pajamas, in the middle of October.

B.) You have that... "My momma might've missed a couple-too many Prenatal vitamins" look in your eyes.

C.) All of the above.

Heart Break

2011-10-23T20:36:00.008-05:00

This past weekend was extremely difficult.

* After a long and brave fight, a beautiful young woman named Taylor, lost her battle with cancer.
She was a classmate of One's. She should be enjoying a life at college. While I did not know Taylor personally, her father is The Kid's teacher. This man, returns my son to me each afternoon, inspired and enthusiastic about his day at school. That alone, tells me enough about the character of this family. They are Good People. And their loss must feel crippling.

* My brother suffered the very worst weekend, in his ongoing struggle with schizophrenia. Our nightmare escalated to a frenzied and desperate place. At this moment, he is at the hospital with my father. Hopefully, being admitted for a successful rehabilitation. I fear he may be gone for some time.

While many may be unable to see the connection between these two heart wrenching events... they feel unbearably similar, this evening. When God gifts a mother and father, with their precious child, their arms immediately reach to pull the new warm bundle into their hearts. Your first instinct of protection is primal.
A mother immediately thanks God, while simultaneously praying that He helps her, to keep this child whole and well. Unfortunately, answering that prayer is completely unrealistic. Their knees will scrap, their hearts will break, their bellies will ache...
And then, sometimes the beautiful bodies the mother had once created, will break beyond repair. And no matter the reason, the parent instinctively wishes to hold their grown baby, to their heart. As if, a parent's love will be strong enough to heal any ailment.

This weekend, families are in pain. For each of those families, I am Tru-ly sorry. But through the overwhelming misery, I have witnessed a small town unite. In our time of need, we were able to turn to several, whom stopped their lives to help us. Their contributions, no matter how small, were great and significant to my family. Your kindness, has etched a special spot in our hearts.

A sweet suggestion circulated, to remember Taylor. We were asked to light one candle on our front porch tonight. This was the perfectly appropriate manner to have my son, understand and share in the loss..

To every parent, whom has held their child as they suffered. Who has watched their baby's future fade away. Who has unwillingly surrendered their child, to a plan greater than their own: I can not imagine.
My thoughts are with you.

And now,
I'm glad I didn't know the way it all would end
the way it all would go.
And our lives are better left to chance.
I could have missed the pain,
but I'd have had to miss the dance.

Yes, my life is better left to chance.
I could have missed the pain,
but I'd have had to miss the dance

Gimme-a... H I C K....

2011-10-20T08:36:00.014-05:00

Ok...Let's get Tru Stories back to business.
Weeks ago:
Ditta texts. Asking if we were in for a Team Trivia Night, raising money for Special Olympics. Sure, ok.
1 Week later, he texts this is a theme night. How about Superheros? Sure, ok.
1 Week later, again: Oh... by the way it's an hour out of town, with a classier group of people in attendance and it's sorta for his work... Ummm, ok.
Then the real drama begins...
So hey, how about we change from Superheros and instead, all the guys can wear the Hickory Huskers uniform from the 50's dance? Fine, ok. Except, that means all the girls have to be cheerleaders.
WAIT... hold the phone. Me too???
We started with a long skirt/sweater idea, similar to the actual cheerleaders of their day. Once or twice, I suggested khaki pants, which apparently was
'the worst suggestion in history'.
Finally, The Mrs. sends out a mass email, which I assumed to be a joke. Instead: it was a walking, wide-awake, living nightmare. The Mrs. found an actual cheer leading web-site where we could just order matching uniforms (yippie!!) and should we go with yellow and maroon (Yes! Why not?! I sooo Heart Yellow!) and the skirts are sorta short so what size did I want (well an XS of course!) and then we could all wear matching Keds (Obviously! I totally want to run out and buy matching Keds!) and doesn't this sound fun and aren't we super excited!!?
After a lifetime of repelling anything cheer leading
(I barely smile, much less enthusiastically shout the spelling of cheerful inspiring words): this sounded like the OppOsite of Super Fun.
But it was for charity (yada) and even though I tried convincing Tink into last-minute puking (she wouldn't) Coach and I prepared to go. With authentic olden-day cheerleader bangs, in tow.

Just wearing the 'uniform' had my skin crawling and my uncomfortable gene flaring... so when we arrived and discovered only 3 out of 50 tables had actually dressed in a theme... it got sorta awkward. The Cherry, on the whipped cream??? The girls had ordered matching Yellow socks with poms and 'CHEER' printed on them. (SQUEAL!! I'm so EXCITED!! I can totally wear those again!)

Please notice.. A.) My bangs. B.) the 300 people in plain clothing. C.) How weird and awkward my arm looks attempting to hip-hold that pom.

Halfway through the event, we learned we lost Best Costume/Table... uhhh, what? Someone shouted "Did you even see this table??!!" and pointed to us.
I responded, "Did they even see my bangs??"
People were not happy.
The Mrs. was even less happy.
Her and The General are pretty accustomed to winning Best Dressed and got just a little bitter on the Trivia answer sheets.

By the end, at least 4 maybe 5 people had some fun. (Mostly those related to the Sunbury side of the table.) We left empty handed.. though I (luckily) have that uniform (and socks!) For Life.
Winner Winner Chicken Dinner.

My Brother's Name is Joel.

2011-10-18T13:13:00.018-05:00

My blog typically serves as an amusing stage for my extended family's hilarity. People click on Tru Stories from the 222nd Floor for a giggle or a cute picture. I often credit myself as living life filterless and keeping it 'realz'. A trait, I am actually surprisingly proud of.
In the past two years, I have sparingly mentioned my brother's illness. I have politely referred to his troubles as 'being ill' or 'not exactly the boy I remembered'. I am not ashamed of my brother or embarrassed by his disability. I have simply avoided details, in an effort to keep my 'public' from feeling uncomfortable. There are words/topics our society shrugs away from.
Yesterday, it finally occurred to me, my brother deserves a voice on my blog. As an outlet to hundreds of people all over the world, my continuing silence on this subject encourages the prejudice of the uninformed. If Coach's sister, had been diagnosed with cancer, I would have opened the blog floodgates. Pleading for your prayers. I would have posted her picture and bragged of her beautiful traits. By not treating my brother's illness with the same dignity, was a mistake. I owe him my apologies.
My little brother is four years younger than me. He was the bright light of our family. My brother's name is Joel. He has Schizophrenia. This, is his Tru Story.

Joel was diagnosed at 18. After two years of erratic behavior, which lead to experimenting with drugs or alcohol. (The eventually progression for nearly every schizophrenic.) Family or friends, immediately felt more comfortable blaming the drugs for Joel's behavior. I always understood the drugs were the result and not the cause. Joel had eccentricities as a child, which are now easily explained. He was nervous at slumber parties. He always kept his window tightly locked. He would color coordinate his drawers. We accepted these quirks as the traits of an extraordinarily brilliant child. Testing far above other children his age. Since his diagnosis, there has been times of extreme sadness. Times of bored daily survival, with a few precious moments of joy.
The brain is a complicated muscle, sending electric impulses to register thoughts, discomfort, physical need and emotion. A perfectly normal brain, often juggles their impulses fairly accurately but can confuse themselves with alcohol, sleep deprivation, even a passionate love affair. The schizophrenic brain has the same electric impulses extremely magnified and without the ability to properly compartmentalize.
For Example:

Woman A (with a normal brain) walks into a crowed bar, alone. At that very moment, Table Q (with several strangers Woman A has never met) turn in her direction, anticipating the arrival of a friend. Without having noticed Woman A, Table Q returns to their conversation, making a quick joke about the lateness of their missing companion. Table Q laughs hysterically. Woman A, believes they noticed her and made a joke at her expense. She stands frozen, registering the moment in her mind. While she is standing, two patrons from Table Q again look in her direction. One whispers to the other, they are STARVING and irritated with their late guest. The other responds by rubbing his belly and laughing. Woman A, witnessed this exchange, convinced they were making fun of her bloated belly in the dress she wore. Woman A feels embarrassed. Her face is red and she in devastated, believing Table Q is discussing how awful she looks (she already felt unsure wearing the dress!) She turns from the bar, rushes out humiliated. Returns to her warm apartment. Throws in jammies. Stays up late, feeling depressed and eating ice cream.
Table Q... never the wiser.

A similar moment has occurred for EVERY woman EVERY where. In Jr high, a girls bathroom...etc. Eventually, Woman A would calm. Realize Table Q probably was NOT talking about her. Woman A would feel silly and forget how ridiculous she behaved.
My brother, suffers moments like this, every time he walks into a public function. He is convinced the world, thinks he is weird. He is afraid people are talking about him. He becomes paranoid, ashamed, embarrassed. He may attempt to defend himself. He has likely created the scenario in his mind... though his disease prevents rational deduction from helping him realize the idea is ridiculous. He craves the safety of his home or the comfort of small groups, he can trust.

In the past 2 months, my brother has been weaning off an old medication and desperately searching for another. The result has left him seriously manic, sleep deprived and with painfully clear depressive thoughts of his life. Joel has been hospitalized, lost weight, attended countless appointments and taken hundreds, if not thousands of pills. My mother has written several uncomfortable posts on her blog. Unfortunately, each has become more of an irrational journal entry, too personal for many to deal with. Her ugly honesty, has unintentionally solicited uninformed advice.
I have heard people rationalize... "At least Joel is not a 7 year old, suffering from cancer." True. I pray to never know the pain of losing a child to an accident or cancer. Though, I honestly pray even harder my 3 beautiful children shall never inherit my brother's fate. My parent's only son, essentially died at the age of 17. (I understand this declaration will offend many, yet I stand by this statement.) Who Joel was, who he could have become, his memories, his interests, his abilities... died 13 years ago. Today, remains the adult shell of the person Joel could have been.

My parents are struggling with the impossible decision of long-term care. Professionals and friends have matter-of-factly, told them 'it is time.' I share the sentiment, this situation is not ideal or healthy for my parents and Joel. They are living in a highly-stressful environment. Still, my question is this:
If Joel had suffered a terrible car accident at 17, was severely paralyzed, yet retained his mind: would people callously expect my parents to cart him away?
From my more personal angle, Joel is my only sibling and an Uncle to my three children.

Joel is extremely uncomfortable attending formal events, in new locations. Yet, when The Kid received his First Communion, Joel was his only God-parent in attendance. Joel wore a new outfit, to a service not of his denomination, walking directly behind his God-son, to the front church.

Joel is nervous in situations with lights and loud noises. This winter, he attended every one of The Kid's basketball games. And several home baseball games.

(Uncle and Coco.)

After spending durations in Bromenn, Joel is terrified to be near hospitals. Yet, he faced his fear to visit The Kid, within hours of his birth. Joel will never have a daughter of his own. Though he will happily, draw a driveway full of princess castles (for his bossy Tink), play Barbies with his Coco and patiently read countless books, to his innocently adoring nieces.

It may shock the public to realize, there are not cute little Group Homes, on the corner of every small town. Honestly, mental illness has made very small strides from the days of the Cuckoo Nest. The nearest location to place Joel, is one hour and thirty minutes away. It is unlikely children under the age of ten, would be able to frequently visit such a location. If or when my brother is placed, will essentially end the relationship between Uncle and my children.
Joel will be alone. In a strange town. Without his parents, his sister or the only children, he will ever form a relationship with. Our family holidays will be reduced to uncomfortable 'Day Before' visits or brief lunches. On Christmas, we will celebrate without Joel... pretending to not feel his heart-breaking absence. The unbearable guilt will hang over our family. His phone calls, begging to be allowed back home, will rip at my parents soul, crippling their marriage. No more basketball games. No chalk castles.
I hate to appear so crass: but none of this makes me feel lucky, Joel is not dying from cancer. This illness is very much a cancer on my family.

If this post, has angrily struck a cord... I am glad. I want to shake your beliefs on schizophrenia. I want to start a candid discussion. Suggest this blog post to a friend. Or take another understanding look at the 'weird guy' in your community. My brother does not need your pity... he is sad enough for himself. My brother does not want you to feel uncomfortable in his presence... he is uncomfortable enough within his own mind. My family does not benefit from your whispers... my brother continually and bravely battles the whispers, haunting his thoughts.
My little brother's name is Joel.
He is Schizophrenic.
And I still, really love him.

I lobe you, Five times more.

2011-10-17T08:51:00.016-05:00

There are moments, as a mother, when you fall in-love with your child... all over again. Typically, a mother loves their child immediately. Unconditionally. Upon feeling them within your belly. Or the first moment you are given your baby to have and to hold. And The Evening... maybe three weeks after your baby has been welcomed into the world, when you hold her close and can actually feel your heart physically grow. Bursting to the point of heartbreak, for the grateful gladness of being her mother.
You become busy with the chaos of motherhood. Moments are blurred with the feeling of frustration, exhaustion, hands to the heavens-wondering why they just HAVE to put their hand in their poopy diaper!? But then... there is a week. A month. A morning... when you 'see' your child again. You pause to notice them. Notice how they have grown, who they are becoming. They take a first step. Tell their first joke. Magically learn how to use the remote control. And you realize:
Oh... That's right. My baby is growing up.
The over whelming, throat closing, almost painful heart burst, washes over. Nearly knocking you over. I felt myself fall in-love with Tink again, during the last month. Her unique personality, her forming relationships and her breath-catching beauty.

My Tink is an acquired taste. She is most certainly not going to make herself easy for just anyone to love. She will not 'kiss a grandmother goodbye' just because they are leaving. Or appease her uncles with a pretend laugh. She will not paint a pretty picture to make others more comfortable. Or deliver a posed smile, just to fill your photo album.
But if you have played your game real smooth, if you have grazed on the outside edge of her land without an eager desperation and she has accepted you into her world. You are Golden. Tink has proven herself a loyal friend. She adores her inner circle of family. She has a surprisingly gentle understanding and patience with her Uncle. And an unwavering devotion to her parents and grandparents. She lights up in the presence her cousins (from her rweally big boy cousins to her faborite gwirl cousins).

Tink rarely 'guess what I did in school today!' or brags about her accomplishments. Though I see her growing with a quiet wisdom. She seems to understand her world with a sensitivity. She is feeling what she is learning. She absorbs the conversations, relationships or actions of those around her. Within hours of her birth, her eyes seemed to clearly 'get' her surroundings with the calmness of an older woman.

My Tink has character, to spare. While she is certainly not the Jazz-hands Broadway sensation that is her little sista or the Award Winning Pampered Genius which encompasses the personality of her big broda.... Tink has depth.
She had perfected her eye-roll by her first birthday. Her irritated sigh could out-dramatic Elizabeth Taylor. Her petite hand seemed to naturally settle on her little hip. She has literally been called out of school 'Naked'. She dropped out of Tumbling due to an extreme lack of 'not caring to raise her arms'. Tink will comfortably ignore the person sitting next to her. She will politely and mater-of-factly discuss the flaws of your complexion or eye color... and she seriously will not take any c*@p from any one. No danks.

Tink. Is. Beautiful. She stole our family photo shoot, without effort. Her deep thinking blue eyes, the strangely calming color of a storm approaching in a warm afternoon sky. Her small, precious features which mistakenly liken a perfect China doll. The sweet line of her cheeks, may trick the unsuspecting into wanting to cup her lovely face for a kiss. (My sincere best luck to whomever would attempt that mis-step.) And her ridiculously untamed curls, which for many become even more impressive the less they are wrangled. Tink tires of 'being her Dad's pretty' but her beauty continually takes my breath away.

To my Tink:
You will always be my tiny perfectly pink doll. The very best surprise, to a woman whom typically dreads the unknown. You have changed my life. Your stubborn competitive nature will undoubtedly become a challenge. The world could always use more fairies. Thankfully, I was gifted the feistiest, tiniest, most determined fairy of them all. I lobe you Tink.
All over again.
You're still and always just too good to be Tru.
Happy 5th Birthday.

A Rapunzel Birthday.

2011-10-16T22:35:00.010-05:00

This afternoon we threw our smallest, cheapest, shortest birthday party eva. From the looks of these pictures, it seemed to work out well for everyone.
I could have posted 30 more smiley pics.
Happy Rapunzel Birthday party, Tink!!
I heart your cute little cousins and friends.

Now... seriously my teeny tiny smallest lil baby you ever did see, is not REALLY turning Five on Monday?
That can't be right. Is it??

A Mother and Son Dance.

2011-10-14T22:29:00.007-05:00

The Kid's school held it's first Mother and Son Sweetest Day dance. And this week, The Kid asked me (via a hidden note) if I would check Yes or No... to attend the dance with him.
Thankfully, I checked Yes.
The Kid and Grammy ordered my beautiful wrist corsage and Coach secretly padded The Kid's pocket with dinner money. And off we went... on our date.

After a peaceful (sista free) dining experience. We chatted and exchanged pleasantries (The Kid pulled out my chair and asked for the bill). At the Dance, we stumbled upon the Second Cutest Couple and danced side by side for the remainder of the evening. Apparently, the majority of Mother/Son combos are not so interested in each other's company or smooth dance moves. Out of the MANY attendees, we were practically the only four dancing away the evening.

Which was a crying shame.
The Bride (Otherwise known as The DJ) sideswiped me with a surprising Hallmark moment, choosing to play my Top Three Favorite song.

As I danced with my eldest, my only son... I was a bit chocked up, as I realized the tiny baby I had danced to sleep nightly, is now a very tall pre-teen-ish. And I suspect, our future slow dances are numbered. I am grateful for tonight and the memories made.

"So take the photographs,
and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time"

For what it's worth it was worth all the while
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

Drama, much???

2011-10-12T18:45:00.011-05:00

Our schools are in Fire Prevention week.
The Following conversation occurred during dinner.

The Kid: We need a fire exit plan. We need to have a meeting to form our escape plan.

Me: We already have a plan.

The Kid: We need smoke alarms outside every bedroom. (A few minutes later) Wait.. WHAT!!! We don't even have an alarm up there??!!

Coach: The batteries ran out. The beeping was annoying me. It's on the counter. Besides... your mom is my real-life smoke alarm. She never sleeps anyway.

The Kid: This isn't a joke! Fire is not fun.

Me: Nope. It's not very funny either.

The Kid: We all need to meet in the garage.
(Side note: Our garage is detached.)

Me: No. We've decided to meet on the corner.

The Kid: That's a terrible idea!! What if it is freezing outside? What if it's below zero outside?

Me: You'll only be out there a couple minutes.

The Kid: We should meet in the garage. What if it is freezing and there are tornadoes outside??!!

Me: How 'bout this: if it's January, our house is burning down AND there's tornadoes?? Then the world is ending and we're gonna watch it from the corner.

The Kid: You are not taking this serious! Fire is not a joke. Do you think 9/11 was a joke?! Fire kills.
You guys acting dumb. Don't you get it?!

(By this time, Coach and I are seriously laughing.)

The Kid: Well I need to figure out my plan. Because first I have to save you (he points to me) then I have to run down the hall and save the girls.

Me: Why do you have save me AND the girls? And why don't you wanna save Dad?

The Kid: Because you guys think fire is funny. You'll just be standing in your room laughing and watching yourselves burn. I'll have to save everyone because you guys are burning into lava.

Coach: I will save the girls.

The Kid: What if the fire is in the hall??

Coach: Don't worry about it. I run so fast, I can speed through the fire.

The Kid: You can't run through fire!! Take this serious. You guys don't even care about this! You'll probably just keep sleeping. All you guys care about is sleeping.

Coach: Yep. We sleep ALL the time.

Me: We are all the time complaining about having TOO MUCH sleep.

The Kid: You guys never take anything serious. You've never lived through anything real. You think everything is easy and funny. You don't know real life.

Me: We've lived plenty of real life. And as a matter of fact, Dad has been in a fire.

The Kid: WHAT??!! Where?

Coach: In a barn.

The Kid: Why? What happened? How did it start?

Coach: Uhhh... that's not really important.

*** There you have it, Bride. Print this convo off for the Safety Chapter in the Parenting Handbook.

Trying to make an Impact.

2011-10-09T16:17:00.010-05:00

Saturday afternoon, Coach and his cousin, with some help from Grammy (and even Pop-Pop!) organized a Round Robin Knock-out Basketball Tournie. Unfortunately, the event had a very low turn-out, which was a disappointment to the Bride's Husband.
I certainly understand his pain and wanted to remind him of the bright side.

First: It was an excellent opportunity to take some action shots on a beautiful Fall afternoon.

Especially, of 2 smiley cousins. Bonus.

Maggie Mae looked adorable. Plus.

Coco showed off her legs in short-shorts. Positive.

Flag Girl is given one more chance to view her super cute son (Three) on this blog. (I swear, I'm about to create and link-up a Three Fan Club page.)

Coach spent the afternoon playing basketball, rather than changing a diaper or helping with laundry.
For Coach: Always a very good thing.

Feel better, Bride's Husband (FYI- I don't like your Munchkin given blog name) the afternoon was a roaring success for our family, at least.
In all seriousness:
To those involved: Thank-you for your hard work and continuing commitment to our town. You were able to paint perfect lines on the court and trim trees, providing a great place for future Trojans to shoot some hoops. Fingers crossed our son stops being a little Barbie girl and one day actually enjoys the courts.
Above quote, just another snippet from the handbook I am compiling for The Bride (future mommy) entitled 'How to Raise Children with Sass and Harsh Sarcasm.'

Haunted House.

2011-10-09T11:36:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, was a perfect Fall day.
We held a small Round Robin Basketball event.
(Basketball pics to follow later.)
Followed by a trip to probably my best haunted house experience eva. We began our evening with dinner at a pizza place. After an excellent meal (unfortunately sans chocolate cake) we took two very chatty and nervous youths to the haunted house.
Coach was more nervous about the $17 per person but he immediately declared we were quickly earning our ticket money, after BOTH Flag Girl and The Kid screamed just while waiting in line.

Top Five Moments:

- In the very first room, the lights flickered just long enough, for a girl to pop-up inches from Coach's face. Resulting in a normally child-friendly Coach, to loudly spew explicits, in the presence of his son and nephew.

- I am very rarely scared of anything. I never scream, act nervous or agitated. Yet, we were shuffled together into a small, plain room. After a quiet pause the walls started pushing together. Ummmm.... not a fan of close quarters, this girl likes her personal space.

- BEST MOMENT: We had established The Line, well before arriving at the haunted house. Our parade order: Coach, then The Kid, Me, Flag Girl, Three and Chili. With emphasis on protecting The Kid and Flag Girl. After tumbling out of the 'Closing Room' our line was broken as we progressed down the VERY small and VERY dark hall. Flag Girl FREAKED as she realized she left alone and exposed in back. She started shouting. "The Line is broken! We are not in order! Get back in line!!" It was awesome. Except for where she nearly tore my sweatshirt while climbing my back.

- I sorta have a secret issue with Hill People. Something about uneducated hill-folk with bad teeth... makes me a bit uncomfortable. They had a movie set worthy room depicting a nightmare-esque cabin. Ick.

- Probably my favorite spot was a Fun House walk in a spinning black-light star tube. It was trippy. And our very athletic Three nearly crawled... totally convinced he was spinning sideways in a gravity-free continuum.

What I learned:
- Haunted Houses inside old barn cellars: Awesome.
- Watching Coach hesitate upon walking into the rubber snake room: Only makes him cuter.
- The Kid has a VERY strong grip.
Last:
- NEVER attend a haunted house without a Flag Girl.

The Definition of Hypocritical.

2011-10-05T15:35:00.012-05:00

A Conversation between Coach and I:

11:35am. This morning.

Me: Soooo... what are the odds we have an extra three hundred bucks laying around and we can do a little shoppin at ** The Pier One, this evening?

Coach: Slim to none.

Me: Ok... give me a range.

Coach: Odds are at best, 70 to 1.

---------------------------------

2:30pm. Coach calls me from work.

Me: Hello?

Coach: ... Pamida has a 40 inch yada yada, LC blah blah high def yada... for $299. That's a good deal.

Me: Seriously!? You JUST told me we had no money.

Coach: Uhhhh... I don't remember the conversation going exactly like that. We'd better jump on this. It's like we are losing money by not buying it.

Me: How about... you wait 4 weeks so me and the kids can buy one for your birthday? I'm sure you can survive til then.

Coach: I'm not sure I can.

** Footnote:
I enjoy randomly putting 'The' in front of various businesses, in response to this entire town putting 'The' in front of their Dairy Queen... as if they acquired THE only Dairy Queen location on earth.

Homecoming 2011.

2011-10-03T20:23:00.009-05:00

Continuing a long-standing family tradition, Three was nominated once again for Homecoming Court. Ensuring this family, would not miss a second of the festivities (not that we would have either way.)
On a beautiful Fall Friday afternoon, we lined downtown excited for the Homecoming Parade.
(my favorite parade of the year: short, sweet and full of cute family members.)

As we waited, the girls took a cute photo opp with a Warhol painted Impact on our Town. My my... those girls sure do look related. Extra related, even.

Then we started to spot some Green! Holla Back Two.

Three's Big Blue Chariot has arrived. Driven by Coach (Past Homecoming Royalty) and who's that handsome boy Shot Gunning in his first ever parade? The Kid. (and maybe one day future Homecoming Royalty?!)

Seriously, how cute is Three and his Princess??
Click the Like button. She knows how to pose cutely for the Blog Camera. Smart girl.

You have to be a Senior to actually win the crown. But thus far... I am liking Three's odds. He just gets cuter, every year. Even with that not-so-faux hawk.

The stadium crowd was thick to cheer for Three and Two. We even welcomed visitors from Carbonhill.
We will happily invite the sweet ladies of that house, back anytime. The General?? No Thanks. He really is too funny for his own good.
Alas... we did not have a Win. Bummer.
But we are still devoted fans. Go Green!!

Happy Birthday Pop-Pop.

2011-10-02T11:19:00.010-05:00

They say girls often find men like their fathers to marry. I have always found this idea sorta creepy though I can certainly understand the reasoning.
On the surface, most would assume my father and husband have few similarities. The more I watch Coach parent, the more I find in common. Because of what my family endures, with my brother's illness, I cope by trying my best to only remember the positives of my childhood. Not with rose-colored glasses by any means but with a concentrated focus on simple, happy moments of my family. I have never understood, adults whom dwell on the unhappy, rather than moving forward with pleasant memories.
When I think of my father... I remember very specific characteristics, which are absolutely similar to the man I gratefully choose, to parent my children.

* My Dad loved music. He would play records every morning, as we readied for school and work. Really great music. (Mostly 70's) How much better is a morning before school, when you can hear your dad humming? (Humming in a manly way.) He was fond of a little car steering wheel drumming. And he was one heck of a whistler, during any instrumental bridge. When the mood struck, he would slow dance with my mom or me, standing small on his shoes. He would quietly sing along and each moment seemed special.

* My Dad was athletic and VERY competitive. There was a long running streak, of never having seen my dad lose... at anything! He loved playing cards, basketball, tossing the football with friends, darts... anything. When his friends unfolded the ping-pong table, it got just a little bit intense. I'm unsure I have ever beat my dad. (He SURE AS HECK, would never let a 4 yr old girl win so much as a game of checkers. Teaching a child Winning was easy? Definitely not a lesson he endorsed.) I remember when my brother finally, grew able to win a few games of HORSE. It was significant. As a result, I'm comfortable being married to a man who enjoys an earned Win.

* My Dad is also a Fan. Nearly every Sunday of my life had a Bears game, in the background. He loves attending sporting events. And is still just as excited to make a White Sox game with friends, as he ever was. Most importantly... my Dad never missed his children play in any event. If he were not present to memorize each and every play, for a long and detailed playback with my brother... I can't imagine the catastrophic results of their post-game evening. And now... he is becoming a constant spectator at The Kid's games. (Though The Kid enjoys the post-game dissection, about as much as his mother did.)

* My Dad is simple. (in a good way!) He enjoys an evening sitting in the yard. He likes to notice the birds and comment on the nice weather. We spent many week-ends hanging at home. We passed each New Year's Eve, playing cards or board games. He enjoyed driving across the beauty of our vast country. And he loved a summer walk for an ice-cream cone.

* My Dad is a good friend. He developed a small circle of friends and remained loyal. While he may not appear as cheerfully friendly as Coach, he has always made a point to be kind to everyone. I remember walking the Campus where he worked and watching him address a Senior Professor with the same genuine interest and kindness as the custodian. He was a devoted son, a faithful husband and an attentive father (and Pop-pop). My Dad is generally: A Good Man.

And if that is what I married...
I guess that's not so bad.
Happy Birthday, to the first great man I loved.

Carbonhill: I'll see your Space Mobile and I'll Raise you 32 Bugs.

2011-09-30T11:26:00.013-05:00

Apparently, it seems to surprise many to learn, I am actually not that Girlie. Sure, I do not 'get' camping and I prefer a pool to a beach. I do not stand in the rain (naturally curly hair does not friend the rain well) and I steer very clear of locations which house any blood sucking insects (ie. ticks or spiders).
Otherwise, I am not afraid to pick up snakes. I don't mind getting dirty. I caught a toad this week, I've disposed of bats. I'll catch worms and caterpillars, while gardening to show the kids. Therefore, when The Kid was assigned a large science project, showcasing various bug types: fine no problem. He had a few disappointing solo hunts, with minimal results. This rainy Tuesday afternoon, him and I set out on the hunt.
Rain: Broken Tru Stories Rule #1
We started lifting giant rocks. I snatched up centipedes, worms, crickets, beetles, slugs...etc.

I found a butterfly, caught that (which hurt a little knowing I had to kill a butterfly). Coach happened upon a wasp. Grammy and Pop-pop found an amazing (apparently pregnant via The Kid's doctor-like intelligence) praying mantis. (we did not kill her.)

Then... on the last rock I turned over, hid my mortal enemy. I was immediately gripped with fear. I felt my entire body resist the urge to jump back. But... I really bleepin love my son. I mean, I really must.. because it took 4 grabs for me to finally catch, this very aggressive and not cooperative wolf spider. Eeekk!!
We popped all the insects in the freezer (his teacher's suggested manor of termination) and put the project together, the following evening.

Ummm... the freezer obviously shrunk the spider slightly. I promise, it was 4 times hairier and larger than that, when I caught it.

(FYI: He drew the State shape, himself. Luv him.)

The assignment stated, a student must catch or print pictures of 15-20 labeled bugs to earn an A grade. The Kid's finished project listed 32 different bugs. We disposed of at least 15 additional bugs, we decided he didn't need. Nothing like obnoxiously over-achieving. It's so confusing, why The Kid is having trouble fitting in with the other boys his age.

Question... did I blog this:
to brag about my bug catching skills?
to brag about my smart son?
to trump the Mrs.'s space project?

or as proof for my son, when he yells "HE HATES ME AND I NEVER DO ANYTHING FOR HIM!!!"... that one time, I stood outside in the rain, catching wolf spiders.
Now... he can take all that love and shove his "NEVER DO ANYTHING FOR HIM"! This was nearly equivalent to taking a bullet, for that child.

Yes, I'm a Little Ashamed.

2011-09-30T11:04:00.004-05:00

Sometimes, not always but sometimes...
I will refer to 'Friday -Mornings' as

"For the love of everything! Can you please sit quietly for 10 more minutes and watch Dora while I finish this DVR'd episode of Jersey Shore- Mornings."

If that's wrong, I don't wanna be right.

Dear Clark:

2011-09-28T14:20:00.008-05:00

- Do you remember, when you and I stood on this exact spot on Frenchmen street. We sorta had a moment. Chatting and complaining. You mentioned you were about to get violently ill... then rushed off to hail a taxi cab, like some New Yorker out of a movie??
Them were some 'good times'.

- Do you remember, the Halloween we fell In-Like with each other. When you described how Maddie is sorta your favorite because she embodies the perfect mixture of gross, hilarity and idon'tgiveadang-ness?
Them were some 'good times'.

- Do you remember, the wedding of the century
(Holla Back Bride) when you and Coach, stayed up too late, discussing in-depth the under appreciated awesomeness of Twizzlers?
Them were some 'good times'.

- Do you remember, weeks ago in the Barbershop, you explained in detail, your extreme annoyance with the Pu$$afication of our nation's youth?
Them were some 'good times'.

- Do you remember, your Out of This World Opening Day parties, when Coach mistakenly told his wife to "Maintain HERself"??
Um. Those were a little less than some 'good times'.

- Do you remember, when you declared every 4th of July, we should run (walk/slow jog) 5 miles in the sweltering heat... for no good reason?!!
Again. Less 'good times'...
I digress... I am getting a little off track.

- Do you remember, when you fell In-Luv with your beautiful and amazing wife... and you promised to love, honor and cherish her... for the rest of your life. And then... You actually have gone and done just that.
Then you gushed your love for Doc like a nervous teenager, to Gramma a year ago. Sealing your fate as Gramma's Number 1 Kiss-Up In-Law for life??
Them.. REALLY are some 'good times'.

I just like you. Your eccentricities and all.
Me and you are cut from the same bread.
Happy Birthday, Big Guy.
Looking forward to many more 'Good Times'.

A Fair Warning:

2011-09-27T14:15:00.008-05:00

Not only did Eight's birthday kick off a whirlwind of extremely necessary texting... it jump-started a Birthday Bonanza. September 23rd- November 22nd, my blog will memorialize/celebrate TEN birthdays.

3 nieces. 2 Bro-in laws. 1 Lil GG
1 Father. 1 daughter. 1 husband
and ending with 1 son.

In addition to famously entertaining tributes to their uniqueness, I will likely recap each event with adorable pictures and interesting commentary. In Conclusion:
Consider this your warning. If you are the rare breed, whom detests birthdays. Hates celebrating another year in the life of a loved one. Loathes happiness, candles, yummy cake (weirdo) and wishing others the gift of Joy.... Welp, you may want to take a mini-blog break. Go ahead and save us to your Favorites. Check back for the holidays.... but it could be your loss.
Because: Who has two thumbs and likes throwing a kick-a$$ party??? This girl.
(that maybe losses something in type.)
PS- I've got some pretty awesome bday plans cookin.

Eight's Birthday present.

2011-09-25T20:22:00.009-05:00

Apparently, Eight was gifted some type of Ipod Touch with a text app, for her birthday. I did not know this ahead of time. Doc and I did not discuss present options or ideas. But at about 5:20pm last night, I started to receive text messages from Eight...
and they have continued through the week-end.
And trust me... they are pretty Earth shattering bits of information and/or in depth discussions. For example:

11:40am This Morning.

Eight wrote:
What's your favorite color? Mine is sky blue:)

(FYI: This is officially the first time, I have typed a smiley face. I'm keeping the integrity of her texts.)

I texted in response:
Purple. Always has been.

Eight replied: Nice!

I mean... seriously! What if that exchange had NOT taken place today? She may never have known my favorite color?! Thank gosh for modern technology.

It's a Sunshine Day....

2011-09-23T10:28:00.008-05:00

Dear Niece: "Do you know you are my Sunshine??"

Eight is our family "Sunshine", without question. We happily absorb her "Warmth of the Sun". She bubbles as she giggles and loves so sweetly. Eight is known to follow her subject of interest (very) closely... famously becoming the "Sunshine on my Shoulder".
"I'll Follow the Sun" because each time Tink shrieks "Here comes the Sun"... our home immediately lights up. What makes Eight our "Little Miss Sunshine" is not only her "Sunny" blond hair or her "Brighter than the Sunshine" smile... What makes her a "Sunshine Girl" is her gracious personality.
For like the actual sun which shines down from above: Eight loves without prejudice or reservation. Her heart is innocently open. Her opinions are "Sunny" and her friendships are unwavering. Eight is compassionate and always equally inviting. (A little like her Grandpa).
I hope she never loses her enthusiastic bounce, as she spends life "Walkin on Sunshine."
I wish you a very happy birthday! And this post is
"All for the love of (our) Sunshine". Thank-you for making our family a brighter place. We can't wait to see you again... because there really "Aint no sunshine when you're gone..."
Finger's crossed for a great year gifted full of "Sunshine and Rainbows"!
We love you, "Sunflower".
Always... "Keep on the Sunny Side"...!!

The Number Five.

2011-09-20T11:09:00.014-05:00

I officially crossed over 500 blog posts. In celebration, I have created a gift for our 'public'... (if you will).

There's a catch. To receive the gift, I have created...
My family of 5... during this week of 500 posts... would like to reach 55 Followers.
Becoming a Follower, makes it VERY easy to Comment. And let's be honest, sometimes the Comments, are the best stuff.

To all of our silent stalkers:
In Ireland, Pennsylvania, New York, Colorado,
Florida or Chicago... to my friends,
who log on to catch a glimpse of their children.
Or a mention of Asher.

To my neighbors, Street Sweeper and The Bride's Father, sharing their nightly Happy Hour session, over a few Miller Lites, while discussing the daily posts... (The Bride's Brother: You owe me $100.)

To my mother's SF crew. And Sweetbreads' Mommy.
Or my friends in AZ.

To anyone, who has enjoyed a laugh at Coach's expense. A slice of Tink talk, an icky update on Coco, pretty pictures of Flag Girl and Doc, or Warhol's hilarious Comments... It's time to Pay-Up.
The moment, this blog reaches 50 or more followers:
I will post the Blog Celebration Present.
(and it's not the pic of Doc.) It's better.

And to Munchkin and Mrs: Who will claim, I am beggin for followers... Get over it! My desperation, typically benefits your follower list as well... so bug off.
I got no shame in my game.

Rain, Rain, Go Away....

2011-09-18T21:00:00.009-05:00

Per usual, it had to rain all over our parade.
But we were still able to mostly enjoy the afternoon. We eagerly embraced the Patriotic Theme, with a little more face painting. (Hey... Why not?!)

Tink and Bella Bella.

The parade began with a long walk of firefighters, police men/women, soldiers...etc. Very happy to recognize our national heroes.

Big cousin Number Three... received an umbrella from The Kid. Three is too pretty, to be getting rained on.

Six, Nine and The Kid's future wife.

Even Maggie Mae enjoyed the wet afternoon.
Complete with many happy cousin and big sista hugs.

It was a lovely and exhausting weekend.
Forever grateful for all of those who helped bring this event to our town. As always, The Greatest Weekend on Earth. (according to The Kid.)
...........................................
PS- I took what was easily the best picture of the year... so HighLarryUs, Gramma giggled uncontrollably. But sadly, I am unable to post this picture, without the approval of Doc. And she's totally the boss. (seriously... Doc is pretty intimidating). No picture. Never gonna happen. No matter, how much Munchkin may have appreciated it....

Face Painting.

2011-09-17T23:00:00.003-05:00

Why is everyone, so much cuter, with face paint?
Why can't we just face paint, randomly through out the year? Like, it's any ol' Saturday... so let's throw on some sparkly face paint? Makes total sense to me.

Maggie Mae.

2011-09-14T16:02:00.016-05:00

Any regular blog follower is aware, I have been suffering hard core with puppy/baby fever. Obviously, we are not succumbing to the baby fever in this lifetime... therefore (dot dot dot.) It is no secret, Coach was less than giddy, over the dog idea. We had the opportunity to purchase or adopt several puppies, over the last few months. All the while, I resisted a puppy-impulse-buy.
I made a detailed list. If I could not find a dog, with the following qualities, I would simply be a mature adult and just not get one. (Trust me... it was tough.)

I knew I really wanted:
A small beagle.
Preferably under 1 year but older than 3 mos.
To rescue/adopt a puppy, which would benefit from being a part of my chaotic family.
I did not want a fancy breeder puppy. (mostly because Coach would have laughed me out of the house, over a $550 puppy price tag.)
And he/she HAD to follow the trend, of our pets being named after Beatles songs.

Via Aunt Sharon's Puppy Phone Tree... we heard of what just may be: The Perfect Find. Her previous owner, worked very long hours. Her already busy family, unfortunately just did not have the time, to attend to the puppy as much as they wanted. After a few happy phone calls, we discovered 'Maggie' a nearly 8 months, small female pure-bred beagle. Nearly potty trained and completely kennel trained. After some tweaking of her name, we proudly became her owners. Our New Puppy, Maggie Mae:

If her previous owners desired to give Maggie Mae an active home. They succeeded. In less than 24 hrs:
She walked to the busy basketball courts.
Had an early morning jog with Coach.
A bath, with Gentle Puppy Powder scented Oatmeal wash. With a new Tink-purchased collar.
A walk to Tink's preschool for a class introduction.
A ride in Daddy's truck
(FYI: Coach FORBADE me to call him a Puppy-Daddy!)
Visits from cousins. Plus Grammy and Pop-pop.
(who ReaLLy needed a puppy pick-me-up.)
A quick nappy on the couch with moi. (What!? Coach, did I say she was on the couch?! Whoops, I meant... um, on the floor next to the couch.)
And several successful games of fetch.

Our only stumbles thus far:

1. Yes, I was standing outside at 6:25am this morning. And yes, that is very early for my notoriously precious morning sleep. That said, Maggie Mae entered her evening crate at 10:45pm and slept without a peep, until 6:20am. I can barely get my three children, to sleep so soundly!!

2. Maggie Mae is newly excited and eager to explore her surroundings. And ironically, she loves just as hard as our Coco likes to hug. The combo of the two, left for a pretty rough knock-down, make-out session... resulting in a very cautious and nervous Coco.

Overall, I have a pretty great feeling about this.
AND... isn't she super cute!!??

3 Guesses.... What we Got??

2011-09-13T20:16:00.002-05:00

"Oh Maggie Mae, they have taken her away
And she never walk down Lime Street any more"
-The Beatles

Hint:
It's not a prostitute.

To the Amazing Number Four...

2011-09-12T21:42:00.005-05:00

"I'm sorry...
So sorry....
Please accept, my apology..."

Have I told you lately, you are super awesome?
You are probably are best nephew ever. Probably the cutest. Definitely the coolest. There is no one more amazing, more adorable, more perfectly perfect. You are Tru-ly the grooviest. The best baseball player, hands down. If someone had to wear purple and gold... you wear it better than others. Probably the best. I'm sure the coolest Raider eva. I have honestly, never met a better pre-teen. You may be the coolest thing this family has to offer, the world. After your mother created you... the rest of the family should have just thrown up their hands in defeat.
Because NO one, could ever be better lookin.
You are probably our favorite. Don't tell anyone.
I'm not even tryin to lay this on thick.
Just being your aunt, makes me a better person.
It makes my life, a little skippier.
I hope all of my children, could be like you.

You are awesome.
PS- I'm sorry.
PSS- Happy Be-lated Birthday.
PSSS- Did this help?
PSSSS- You are amazing.

I'm Legally Changing My Name:

2011-09-12T11:27:00.006-05:00

It's officially happened: I forgot a birthday.
My poor, innocent, kind, never-hurt nobody...
Nephew Number Four.
Here is my list of excuses:

1. I got a brand new calender, two weeks ago and haven't finished filling in all the dates and birthdays (that's a fact)

2. My whole schedule has been thrown for a loop, since changing all my yoga/pilates classes to new dates and times. (also a fact)

3. Last week, got sorta busy, with Tink starting school. (fact)

4. It's all his god-father's fault, because he should have totally remembered and reminded me!
(Coach is a jerk.)

5. My bro/sister in-laws are terrible for not calling me out, on my HUGE mistake and helping me recover with a bit of dignity. (FACT!! I guess, as long as I am blogging about Chili... that's all he cares about!)
Ok... not really a fact. It is totally my fault, alone.

6. I secretly resent Four, because he proudly wears the Purple/Gold.. I grew to view as my enemy in my home town. (ok... not really a fact either. But he would look much better in green. Just sayin.)

So this afternoon, I am driving to the courthouse, to file the paperwork, to change my name to one of the following choices:

1. Mrs. Worst Aunt Ever of All Times.

2. Most Thoughtless Blogger in Existence

3. Conceited
(it's short... I'll be like one-name Madonna)

4. Nervous Nelly (that Doc is gonna hurt me)

5. Ms. Now I Have to Work To Win Back Clark, Doc and Four's Approval McPherson.
(It's wordy but I think it has potential....)

Feel free to vote on your Favorite.
After I return from the Courthouse,
I will compose his Birthday Blog.
If he even still cares.....

PS- I'm awful.

A Little More Texting...

2011-09-09T09:16:00.004-05:00

Coco and I were chillin in her bedroom. I was busy cleaning, while she just as quickly uncleaned. After a bit, I noticed the unmistakable smell of a messy diaper.

With a sing-song voice, I say:
"Who has a stinky butt??!"

Turning towards me, with all seriousness (without a crack of a smile or hesitation) she immediately replies:
"Chad."

.........................................

Of course, I had to text this exchange to any interested party. Flag Girl replies: "I love her..."

I reply to that:
"I know. How random that Chad's name came out?!"

Flag Girl responds:
"Or is it?"

.........................................

In Conclusion:
Both Flag Girl and Coco, are pretty funny.

The License Plate Game.

2011-09-07T19:53:00.007-05:00

Because we are Small Town Dorky and Proud, we ordered personalized plates for our new van.
(I know... super cool!) We put in three options for the final number and per usual, we did not get our request.
Instead, they sent us a random number.

It reads... (insert our abbreviated last name)
(BLOG) 2

Two?? Really?
So we spent a solid 20 minutes, trying to make up a reason to tell people, for why we choose the '2'.

For Example:
-There are '2' adults in our home.
-We met in February the '2'nd month of the year.
-Coach was Football All-Conference '2' times.
-We have '2' daughters.
-My heart leaps 'twice' when Coach enters a room.
-I am '2' inches taller than my husband.
-We rarely have '2' working toilets, in our home, at the same time. Making our plumbers '2' times richer.
-'2' people in this house 'habs ugwee brown eybes'.

We are accepting suggestions...
Please play The License Plate Game.
I love to see which of our Followers, is the most HIlarious. Winner gets some mad Blog street cred.

Mass Texts...

2011-09-06T21:02:00.005-05:00

Coach texted out:
If you could get anything from DQ right now,
what would it be?

The Replies.....

Flag Girl: "Mud Pie Blizzard for def"

Warhol: "Chocolate Dipped Waffel Bowl"

Three: "Nutter butter blizzard, with hotfudge topping."

Doc: "Lg nutterbutter blz with squirt of hotfudge."

One: "Because there is no dollar menu, i would have one of the meal deals. i get my moneys worth."

(One didn't even 'get' this game... Food?? Come on!)

The Commish: "Nutter butter blizzard. We now call it the Nutter Queen."

We both decided to go with the crowd. Ordering two Mini Nutter Butter's with a squirt of hot fudge. I'll be honest (fully understanding we may be making enemies.) It was not life-changing. We both agreed, we would never order it again. Sorry, but it was too mushy... not enough cookie chunks. Reminds us of the always surprising disappointment of an Oreo Blizzard.

So Blog World...
If you could get anything from the DQ right now...
What would it be???

Coco's Week-End...

2011-09-05T13:47:00.003-05:00

Coco kept busy on her long holiday week-end by:

Falling down the bleachers.
Putting a rock in her mouth.
Dipping her Barbie's hair, into a patio baby pool and sucking the dirty pool water, from the hair. Repeatedly.
Staying strong, during an impromptu Saturday late night with the Mrs... until 1:35am.
Licking the kitchen table, without reason.
Biting her sister.
Oh... and she colored a picture.
She's especially proud of the forehead portion.

She's really a special little girl.

Puppies for Sale!

2011-09-02T11:55:00.006-05:00

Directly across the street, they are having a Garage Sale. Shelves, books... Golden Retriever Puppies. The girls and I, walked over. Sorta considered and contemplated. But let's get real. No Way. Too big. Too much hair. Too much dog. But they were cute.
So this is what I am wondering...
Where is the Garage Sale selling teeny, tiny Beagle Puppies?? Seriously. This is my decided, puppy of choice. I want one. Tink... wants two.

So... really. Give me an Address.
I promise. Coach will really appreciate it!
Honestly, what is the point of having a blog, if I can't score some Free Puppy Swag??

The Chain Gang.

2011-08-31T21:20:00.008-05:00

Many may assume, Basketball is Coach's most favorite season. And while the answer would be ... Yes, he really hearts the bejesus out of Basketball:
the taste of the ball, the glare of the bright gym lights. His most Favorite SEASON? Hands down, Football.
Many forget, Coach was not a bad lil running back.
(All Conference. Twice. Thank-you.)
The very moment, the Summer air turns a bit crisper. Our home's location, becomes his most beloved selling point. Football Friday, baby... nothing better.

Two weeks ago, after he had picked up Three from practice, Coach returned home all juiced up on his nephew's excitement.
Coach commented (Deep Thought Alert!): I just do not understand why EVERYONE would not want to play football?! It is the only sport, like this. You are only guaranteed 4 years of football. You can play basketball on leagues until your knees go... you can play softball until you're forty (I quietly responded with a huge eye roll and pointed stare)... you can golf, until you are dead! But you only get 4 years of real football. Man, even when Three got in my truck... I missed the awful smell of the dirty football pads!

We like to turn every Friday evening into a party. We all meet at the house. Coach tries on old jerseys (kidding, sorta). We walk together to the stadium. (Nice and too early so Flag Girl doesn't miss a second of Three's cute warm-ups!) I order my pop corn, Diet and Peanut M & M's. It's an event.
Friday evening. Two games (JV and Varsity).
Nothing better.
This past Friday. With his large and in-charge smiley family section standing and wildly clapping... we were honored (I almost cried) to watch our 15 year old Three, start in his First Varsity Football Game.
We would not have missed it, for anything.

(A notmuchlongerinjured Two and Varsity Three)

Seriously... how cute is that pic? I'm like a crazed (super annoying) nature photographer, trying to capture the perfect snap of our boys.
We eagerly await the medical release of the Senior Two, to join his cousin. Coach cannot get enough of his kinfolk on that field.

This Friday's game is Away. I had sorta considered missing a few Away games. Except, Three excitedly (nearly everything he says is excitedly!) swore to me that I just HAD to go... because he had a great game against them last year.
And Darn-it if I am not still easy persuaded,
by a cute football player!
FYI- Unanimous vote, Three is a teeny bit cuter wearing the black socks, than the white.

Video Killed The Radio Star.

2011-08-29T13:18:00.014-05:00

It may surprise many to learn, Coach and I are totally old school. And not just 'old school awesome'... but seriously lacking in any modern perks. We totally rock the DVR and Streaming Netflix pretty hard but it took us years to follow the pack. Most irritating to The Commish, has been our resistance to fiddle with this whole iTunes fad. Neither of us own an ipod and while we have both purchased new phones in the past 10 months... we opted against iphones.
(It's too hard to text on those silly touch screens!)

The Kid, earned a gently used 3rd Generation Ipod. Yesterday, after 32 hours on CONSTANT nagging, I sat down at the computer. Forced to go it alone (bleepin Commish and Chili did not answer my desperate calls) I successfully....
Opened an iTunes account and attached our Paypal.
Questioned, studied and finally understood what Apps were and how to locate those in the 'App Store'.
Synced up "Megan's" old Ipod to our computer. Connected it to iTunes. Upgraded it to a 4th Generation. Began scrolling and purchasing apps and downloaded 160 songs to his ipod.
The entire process took more than 4 hours.
Briefly, I lost my cool. I yelled at The Kid to 'just go play basketball like kids used to do!'
I refused to order apps to 'dumb down his brain'. I carefully edited the song collection. I threatened no less than 6 times, to open his account whenever I want and if he ever purchased ANYTHING... he would lose it for a month.
I sent a text, bragging of my awesomeness.
The Commish called...
Me: Hello.

Commish: Congratulations... somewhere, in the Apple corporate headquarters, a group of executives are popping open champagne and high-fiving each other, because the massive ticker on the wall, shows that FINALLY the very last person on Earth... opened an iTunes account.

Me (laughter)

Commish: Can you believe how simple it is?

Me: I guess it is now, after I finally figured it out.

Commish: Yeah, its actually SUPER easy. They designed it that way, so every child, adult or idiot, in the entire country, could download music over the last 10 years. And finally, now you joined the club.

No worrys. An Ipod will not actually 'cool-up' our son. Commish asked, if I downloaded any good games. Um.. I allowed The Kid two idiot games.
Then, I choose the following Apps:
On This Date in History
The Smithsonian
Sharks
Beatles Love
Pocket Penguins
Ranger: The National Park Finder
History Pin
The Astronaut App
NBA Jams
Maps of the World
Sky View: now in the Universe.

The Commish replied:
Good idea. He's definitely not nerdy enough already.

Your First Birthday....

2011-08-27T09:47:00.006-05:00

... of the rest of your life.
Two weeks ago, my cousin (and sister-in-law) welcomed her third baby. As with any new baby, Jackie has endured a few sleepless nights. And while she may wake this morning, under-rested and feeling drained (literally)... this morning, she will also wake feeling grateful and heart-Full.
As this is her First Birthday, her first official holiday, as a mother to three very beautiful girls.

Despite every Math class, a woman may take. There are moments, circumstances, instances, where 2 + 1 DOES NOT = Three. Those particular moments, occur as a mother to three children. While I am certainly not an expert or an authority on mothering three children (NOT news to those who follow my blog...) but I have a small head start and therefore, bits of insight into this crazi-ness.

While a person, may have a fairly decent handle on two children. Adding just one more tiny life into the mix, feels a little like adding five more! For Example, Just adding ONE more baby, really means adding....

An additional 57 minutes prep time, to leave the home for any event. Let's just pretend you have easily nursed, diapered, burp rag-ed and lotioned the infant. You quietly place your tiny ball of baby, into the car seat without issue. You stand victorious and declare "Time to Go!"... suddenly realizing your eldest child, has been waiting on the porch. He got distracted by an ant trail and followed the trail into the garden. His shoes and jeans are now covered in mud. You yell for him to get inside and change. He races inside, forgetting to remove his shoes and leaves mud prints all over the carpet. You attempt to quickly wipe those up and accidentally get mud on your shirt. You deep sigh and run to change. You can't find anything that fits (because you have given birth to three children and are reminded how your very body has housed and nourished those lives... while your husband did NEXT TO NOTHING!!) finally choosing a top you don't even like, feeling attractively defeated. Your eldest is ready, you grab the car seat and turn to find Child #2 quietly standing near the couch. She's the good one! You quickly realize, she was standing quietly because she just pooped her diaper. Put down the car seat, grab Child Two, change her diaper. She won't lay still and just like that!! You have to change HER outfit. Her clothes are super cute, so it's easy to pick an outfit. Except she HATES that shirt and she will NEBER wear those shoes. Twelve sweaty minutes later, you are again ready to leave... Unfortunately, Child #1 got distracted in his room and hasn't put on his shoes. You yell again, waking The Baby. She starts fussing (because 50 WHOLE minutes have passed since she nursed) you hope she will fall asleep in the van and head for the door. Except, her crying causes your milk to drop. And again... you have to change your top. But at this point, you may as well nurse her. You decide to play a movie for the older kids to keep them clean and behaved. But OF COURSE they can not agree to watch the same movie. You are getting a headache, the baby is crying, you have soaked your shirt, Child #2 wants a Capri Sun... you HATE and ENVY your husband for having a job, out of the house (remind yourself not to strangle him as he cheerfully returns home and sings "How was your day!?"). You resist the overwhelming urge not to flop to the floor and cry. Unhook Baby from the car seat AND just like that...
you did NOT make it to the grocery store.
The outfit changes have created an even taller pile of laundry and you'll have to order pizza for dinner, causing you to feel like a failed housewife, who never cooks a decent meal.
And while this scenario, may play out repeatedly for 2 years, there is honestly WAY more good, than bad. You will never have enough hands, to hold all three as you cross the street. You will never, have enough quiet opportunities to look deep into their eyes and appreciate their beauty. You will never master the art of "Looking at ME!" as they each perform something amazing, during their separate swim lessons. At times, the guilt of not loving each their individual and deserved amount, will swallow your heart whole.

That said, on my first holiday, following the birth of Coco... I had never felt more at peace. To know, I had created three beautiful, healthy, perfect lives. To know (God-willing) those lives will grow into beautiful, healthy, perfect adults. That one day, they will come home to fill our holiday table with their own children and to watch your 3 grown babies laugh and share stories, as friends! Would be the greatest gift.

My birthday wish for my cousin,
I hope 3 sweet little girls, rush into your bedroom. I hope they giggled as they gave you a small birthday gift, or card. I hope you had a moment, to look at your husband and feel grateful for what you both have created (though you did at least 98% of the 'creating' work). I hope you feel whole. Happy. And Complete.

You are a wonderful mother.
Happy Birthday, little cousin.

My Daughters.... Part Deux.

2011-08-25T14:41:00.006-05:00

(A continuation....)
This morning, I was rushing to get ready for my yoga class. I decided to smear on a quick layer of blend-able tinted base. As I began applying, I noticed the make-up seemed just a little creamier. More moisturizing.
I found this odd but hardly noticed, as this is a new brand and as previously stated, I was in a hurry.
Just as I had finished the application and proceeded to swipe on some lip gloss.... a flash of a blurry memory, swept through my mind...

Tink.
Yelling something about Coco having my make-up... when did she say that??? Oh... Wait. I remember... Tink said Coco was playing with my make-up, while Tink had her pants around her ankles.

Oh, Gawd. Noooo.
That's why Coco had her hands in the toilet.
She wasn't just trying to touch Tink's pee water...
Son of a bleep...
Coco was scooping my make-up, out of the toilet.

I hesitated for a brief moment, while the realization of this information sunk deep into my conciseness. I just applied Tink's pee water make-up to my face. (courtesy of Coco's advanced chemistry skills.)
I should pause and wash my face.
Except. I'm really running late.
So... I left the house.
Hours later, I am still wearing the make-up.

Thank-you Coach, for helping keep me very comfortable, in this glamorous life, I have grown accustomed too. I am a real life Cinderella.

My Daughters.....

2011-08-24T21:12:00.009-05:00

Set Scene:
Afternoon, during what could have been our quiet nap time/Tink's school time.
Tink comes racing out, from the back bathroom
(Side note: one of our toilets is AGAIN not working. My life is like a fairy tale). Shorts and panties are tight around her ankles and she can barely walk.

Tink: Coco is trying to get her hands into the toilet!!

Me: Why aren't your shorts on??

Tink: Cuz my sista is trying to stick her hands into my pee water.

Me: Did you poop, or something? Why didn't you stop and pull your pants up?

Tink (shoulder shrug and eye roll): Uhhh... I don know. Just because I'm fast.

Still standing with pants down. She continues to stare at me (like she doesn't 'get me') and lifts her one sassy hand up and knocks her hip out to the side: Uhhh... What?

Me: PULL YOUR PANTS UP!!

Tink (deep sigh and eye roll):
Alright. Ok... Man.

I then proceed to walk down the hall, to smack Coco's hands out of the toilet.

Yes, Ma'am... my girls are obviously much too gifted for the school program.

The First Day of School.

2011-08-22T19:34:00.006-05:00

While The Kid, did look pretty cute. And was actually pretty excited to start the Fourth Grade. And I was pretty calm about the whole thing... He unfortunately was running a decent fever, accompanied with pretty awful chills. Therefore, after this extremely emotional good-bye. The Kid was off to school, only to be sent home, 3 hours later.

In addition, immediately after the above pic, Coco began a 10 minute tantrum, including a pretty firm rant: "I go to school too! I'ne big too! I not stay home! Be nice to me!"
Tink, spent a lonely afternoon at home, while exactly 98.6% of every child she has ever met, enjoyed their first day of Pre-school. Which poor Tink was very unfortunately, not accepted into.

Final Assessment:
First Day of School, pretty much a huge failure.

It's Over.

2011-08-21T19:30:00.004-05:00

This has honestly, been the quickest summer, in memory. This, is why they say... 'your children grow up in a blink of an eye'. I swear, summer just began. Just a few weeks ago... it just happened.
Now, tomorrow morning, my boy will start the Fourth Grade. Like an ol' regular Big Kid.

So long Summer,
Thanks for the memories...
We snacked on some N'Orleans crawfish. Attended a few too many (losing) baseball games. Waved The Kid off to Basketball camp, Football camp and Golf camp.
There were stressful mornings at swim lessons and relaxing evenings on the Mansion patio. We enjoyed pool days, beach days and Carbonhill days.
We were Warriors.
We were Runners (walkers/joggers).
We were Cubs fans (cuz somebody has to be.)
People moved. Friends were married. Birthdays were celebrated. And a beautiful niece was born.
And we sweat(ed). Seriously. Because it was HOT.
In New Orleans, in Shelbyville and just in our yard.
My children were tanned, tired, cute and crabby. Some days felt like they would never end... while others ended much too quickly.

Tonight is a bummer (even if The Kid has been driving the girls crazy!) I will miss you, Summer. Though Coach is very happy to welcome Football Season.

I suppose, on the upside...
I'll have a little more free-time to blog.

A Mother and Son.

2011-08-17T21:57:00.006-05:00

10:35pm. The Phone Rings. Coach answers.
It is his mother (Gramma).

Gramma: What game was it that you were playing blah blah blah and scored blah blah blah. Was that the game they asked you to play Varsity as a Freshman or was that the blah blah....?

Coach: I scored 42 pts at blah blah during my sophomore year the freshman game I scored blah blah, during blah blah quarter...

(Conversation continues for several minutes..)

Gramma: Ok... me and dad were just having a debate about which game they blah blah Varsity blah blah... points scored... blah blah... you are amazing blah... so glad you are my superstar son blah blah...

Coach: I really AM amazing.. blah... call anytime to talk about my awesomeness... blah... I remember every single basket, as if those moments were the greatest of my life.. blah.

I interrupt from the corner:
Why don't you ask you mother, to ask you...if you can remember on what evening, our garbage man picks up our garbage, on the same night each and every week.... I'll bet that detail, escapes your memory.

They laugh and giggle about how sarcastic I am!! Ha... your wife is amusing... blah... she's no star like you... blah. Thanks again for being born, son... you are our shining light... blah.. blah.

They hang up.

Coach re-enters the room:
Weird, of mom to be the one, to call about that.

Me: You know what's really weird? Usually, when a 66 year old parent calls a child's home after 10:35pm, on a week night... it's to tell them someone died.
NOT to discuss their high school basketball game.

Obviously, Coco has Been Jerking Me Around for Months....

2011-08-16T13:55:00.012-05:00

Our Grade School, holds a State Funded Pre-School program. A portion of spots are granted to children at need and other spots are open to all children (though getting your child on this list, has become like the Harvard of Preschools.) Poor Tink, is fighting for one of the very last spots and it is NOT lookin good.
(Much to my disappointment.)
Therefore, to get a jump on next year, I scheduled Coco a screening this afternoon. Totally confident, the child who tried eating deodorant THREE times, would be a Sure Thing for Pre-School class of 2012.
I sat quietly in the corner. Just waiting for her to
'Be her Coco-self'. Instead, that sneaky little brat, scored in the Extremely Advanced Category. In fact, TWICE the Professional Child Therapist/Specialist from out of town, actually said...
"I have NEVER seen a child, this young, even close to doing this before!".

WHAT?!! Seriously??
Coco didn't so much, as lick a block. Actually, she stacked 12 blocks perfectly. She scored OFF THE CHARTS for her Fine Motor Skills and Communication. And just plain Advanced, in the other 4 categories.

I am baffled. Honestly. I feel like I just found out the dorky Clark Kent, is Superman.
Coco prefers to snack on sand, over playground pebbles. She rips off her T-shirt, yanks out her ponytail and walks around rubbing her chunky belly. She mixes Ranch Dressing and Ketchup. She will randomly kick her sista in the head, for no reason. And as I type, Coco is watching "Max and Ruby" with her sunglasses on, upside-down in our dark living room. Yet... they used the phrase, "Extremely Advanced."

I am seriously, starting to think, my children are messing with me. My entire existence as a mother, must be secretly getting video-taped for the Greatest Prank reality show of all times. Tentatively Entitled:
"Let's Pretend to Be Huge Messes while Slowly Driving our Mother Insane!!"
Shocked and confused, I called Coach, to tell him how our youngest daughter has been screwing with me for months. I told him, her motor skills were unchartable... he replied "Welp, sorry. Guess that's my fault." Given that Coach is as romantically articulate as a 6 year old... I'm not even pretending to give him credit for her communication skills.

Ok... YES, I am happy she is doing so well. That said... I am ending the typing of this post, at this very moment, to find out why I can hear my Super Genius splashing in the back toilet. She's probably dipping her Super Advanced Pacifier in, for a taste....

Really Stupid Things Coach has Recently Said to Me:

2011-08-14T20:48:00.004-05:00

in the days before and following the birth of Baby 14...

1.) "Ummm... don't you really think, we have enough going on with the three kids we already can't handle??"

2.) "No. I will not buy you a plane ticket to Ethiopia, to find a little girl that looks just like Angelina Jolie's adopted daughter."

3.) "No. A reversal than reversal than reversal... Do you know what that does to a man??!!"

4.) "No. I will not help you kidnap Asher."

5.) I said, while holding Fourteen: "She is really so beautiful, I literally want to suck her tiny cheeks and mouth up into my face."
Stupid Coach responded: "Maybe you should not just say everything out loud and should keep that to yourself." ... Super Rude of him.

6.) "No. We do not have a secret savings account with $120,000.00 to hire a surrogate."

7.) "No... just because I do not want a new baby, does not mean I want to buy two little puppies and smell the back of their ears."

8.) "Watching you hold Fourteen, makes me want to drive the 20 minutes, to high-five my doctor."

FYI- My husband is a jerk... AND I held Fourteen for hours today and she is unbelievably beautiful.

Girls, Girls, Girls!!

2011-08-10T15:39:00.015-05:00

After a busy day, of becoming Big Sistas, New Big cousins and for poor Coco, being knocked off her "Baby of the Family Pedestal"... made for some happy but sleepy little girls.

You'll notice a missing Coco. We snuck her into our bed. She was excited for the mom and daddy time but could have done without her mother attempting to swaddle and snuggle her into a tiny baby ball.
I asked her if she was still Mommy's Baby.
She smacked me and yelled:
"Stop Smatching Me!"

After Attentive Aunt provided a healthy breakfast of whole grain muffins and grapefruit (Lucky Charms and Cookie Crisps) we got ready for Jump Rope practice.
Tink and Eleven were SUPER adorable! Double Dutching or whatever the moves are. (MAYBE, Six and The Kid, also did the jump rope... but ONLY to prep for basketball! Seriously, that's it! Stop talking about it. Don't look at me like that!! Stop finger Pointing!)

How sweet is Twelve? (Oh... by the way Commish, she nose dived during jump rope. Sorry!)

We returned back home, for a Fashion Shot Spread for a popular Magazine called:
My Stupid Aunt Forces us to Wear Matching Clothing.

Coco dubbed the above picture:
"I am over cousin time, stop hugging me SO close! We are NOT those kind of people!"

And just because 24 hours with 2 extra cousins, was not nearly enough, I was excited to be promoted to Nine's Professional Cheer leading Hair Dresser (obviously, because of MY Cheerleading experience!)

As we walked out, Nine said to me:
"I think this uniform makes me look fat."

(I think.... her daddy is in trouble.)
Because JUST LOOK at this beauty....
That's stupid ridiculous.

End Result:
My Baby Fever dimmed slightly.
NOT because of the mess from 5 children. Or the food for five children. Or the diapers, noise, Cartoon arguments... only one little thing, made me feel extra comfy with our current pack of three:
Do you have ANY idea, how obnoxious it is, to buckle up FOUR car seats and one seat belt, just to drive 6 blocks? Not cool.

Even so: How cute are all those girls?!

Introducing....

2011-08-09T20:56:00.006-05:00

Baby Number Fourteen.
Her given name is much sweeter...
(and probably just made her Warhol's favorite niece).
She was sleepy and warm and totally sniffable..
Especially after her Big Sis, gave her a bath.

Smelling her Baby Magic goodness (and the below picture) made my Baby Fever spike high.

Alas, our home is buzzing with the squeals of our three children, plus two new big sistas. Maybe 24 hours with 5 children, will help cool that fever.
The family is overJoyed..
Fourteen is a happy number...
we could easily fit a couple more.

Babies really are a magical miracle.
Welcome to the world, Fourteen.
You are a very blessed baby:
Your life will be beautifully filled with love.
Full of butterfly kisses and soft snuggles.
And one creepy head-sniffing Aunt.
We wish you a very special Happy Birth Day.

Fourteen. (14) Quatorze. Catorce.

2011-08-09T15:18:00.004-05:00

Sorta like 13 Plus One more.
Or 6 of one thing and 8 of another.
Why would I care about that number?

Is it my fourteenth wedding anniversary?
Is today the 14th of August?
The fourteenth month of the year?

Can you guess...
why we are so excited,
thinking of the number 14 today?

Yoga Relaxation- Inside My Head

2011-08-08T12:12:00.005-05:00

This past weekend, I attended two yoga workshops. I am very rarely, a student (rather than an instructor) in a yoga class. It was a nice and relaxing change. However, you can't help but notice little things, when left in your own silence. (i.e. The heavy breathing of the person next to you.) Most noticeable, the teacher did not use music. As a result, during Relaxation, you are left to your thoughts.
I know, I know... You are supposed to release into the silence. Completely clear the mind. Just let the body 'Beeee.' All easier said than done. I am a famously, Unrelaxed mind. I think, I worry, I ponder.... This particular class, held Relaxation for Twelve Long Silent Minutes. This was the silent mess inside my head:

_______________________________________

Ok. Deep breath. Clear the thoughts....Be quiet... ugh, why is that guy breathing so loud? Is that what my breathing sounds like? Ok... seriously. Quiet. Quiet. Alright, how about a prayer..

Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread....

Bread.... I am STARVING! I should stop by Panera, since I am in town. I wonder if they have a drive-thru. It would be pretty hard to eat soup in the new van. I shouldn't order soup, anyway. It's only good if I get it with bread. God knows, I would look better in a swim suit if I would stay the bleep away from bread... I wonder if my mom took the kids swimming today?? Probably. Then Coach won't even have to watch the kids... he never has to watch the kids... I am with them all freakin day and then he goes and plays 6 softball games in one week! and....
Ok. Wait. Settle it down.
Deep breath. Why is it SO quiet in here? And freezing? I am seriously freezing. Warhol would probably love it if my class were this cold. At least they pass out blankets. I wish I could afford to have blankets and block for everyone in my studio. Except, I wonder how often they wash these?? What if they have bedbugs?? That Law and Order with the bedbugs was freaky! Where is their washer and dryer anyway? They would have to drag 25 thick blankets up and down stairs... Maybe I don't want blankets.
Except..... I want music!
Would a little Enya kill anyone?
Ok, try praying again...
Where did I stop?

Bread.. oh, Panera. Daily bread... and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass... Oh, forget it. How about a little Gratefulness...

I am grateful for my healthy children.
For my intelligent son.
For my tiny Tink.
For my happy Coco, except she is so gross. But super beautiful. We should take another family picture. Maybe I should stop by Target and for dresses...
How long is this relaxation??? Jenny Hogan would lose her mind, if I held my relaxation this long. Come on! You complain about the noise of the kids ALL the time. Quiet your stupid mind! Quiet... Quiet...
I think my stomach is gonna growl. I hope it's not loud. I totally feel it coming. What if it is like echo off the walls kind of loud?! I am so hungry.... I should drive-thru somewhere. Nobody is gonna hear my stomach over that guy's 'Prana' breathing.

It's gotta be almost over. But then they are gonna chant. Chanting makes me want to roll my eyes and laugh at the same time.... I sorta feel like laughing now. What if I did? What if I just crazy laughed right now? What if I just yelled out?! Super loud. Like I told One, I was gonna do at his graduation. I totally should have done that. It would have been awesome....

Ok... almost over.
Then the chanting.
Then I can leave and eat.
What if we chanted in my class?
Sweetbreads would probably stop coming.
I like her hair....

... I am grateful for my yoga practice. I am grateful, I own a home. What if I were homeless? I am such a jerk, complaining about Panera. What if I couldn't afford to eat? I'm hungry. What if we were homeless?... I should make dentist appts for the kids. Well, first doctors appts. I should do that before school starts... I could get them new clothes at Target.
We need toilet paper.

________________________________________

Etc. Etc. Etc.
And that... honestly..
Was probably just the first 3 minutes.